The Heart Asks Pleasure First
by Mephisto Waltz
Summary: 4x3. A.T. When Oz comes to occupy L4, Quatre finds himself intrigued by the aristocratic ways of Duke Kushrenada. As Quatre delves further in Oz's world, he becomes entranced by Treize's beautiful "project", the nameless one man army.
1. Sinfonia

**_The Heart Asks Pleasure First_**

**A Prose Opera **

-By B. E. Sheurmann

_~*~A Quatre Winner and Trowa Barton Story.~*~_

_A.N.: This story is an A.U.-more specifically an alternate timeline-. Project Meteor was halted even before it truly began.. warning: homosexual and heterosexual relationships.PG-13. The title comes from the instrumental piece of the same name- the theme song to The Piano._

**_Sinfonia_**

_L4 Colony.__ A.C.196_

            They  were hunting him.

            So he ran.

            '_Quatre!__ Quatre!!'_

            He thought he heard his sisters screaming. . .but he wasn't quite sure. His pounding pulse and the overwhelming sense of anxiety numbed his perception, while the sirens and gun shots had him brutally deafened.

            _'Quatre!'___

            He  heard the cry again- weaving its way through the din. He turned around sharply and flung himself against the tunnel wall, hoping that its shadowy veil would momentarily camouflage his trembling form.

            He saw nothing.

            But that didn't necessarily mean anything.

            They would find him eventually- he had been a fool to think he could hide from them in the attack shelter. There was only one way out- back through the tunnel into the Winner mansion. . .the mansion that was presently being brutalized and ransacked by the Alliance military.

            _'Father!'___

            He was now underneath the conservatory- he could hear the discordant wails of the piano as it was riddled with bullets. He heard hollers and screams- cruel hollers colored by sadistic smirks, rough from smoke-inhalation and strident screams tinted with an overtone of desperation and an undertone of terror.

            The tunnel acted as an amplifier and the sounds. . .the sounds made him nauseous.

            He hoped his family was alive. He prayed for at least one of them to live through the massacre.

            His father. . .

            He shook his head. He wouldn't think about that.

            Thick, brackish  rain streamed from his eyes. He wiped it from his gaze with the cuff of his good  linen shirt, though it was hardly good now, stained with his father's blood.

            The hollow sound of footsteps in descent caught his ear.

            They'd found the stairs.

            He bolted toward the shelter, muttering a guilty blasphemy- his footsteps resounded beautifully within the resonant cavern. The sound was greeted with a half dozen more heavy echoes as the soldiers registered the sound and began to pursue their prey.

            He pumped his legs hard, cursing his pampered upbringing- the door was just ahead.  If he made it, he'd be able to live for a few more days. . .though, the newly-acquired numbness in his heart asked him why he should bother.

            But he ran.

            Behind him he heard a row of guns cock.  Quatre shuddered and memories of a time not long ago made him stumble. . . 

            The door was looming.

            He heard the  gruff shouts, the pounding and running. They were coming. 

            The sound grew louder- they were so close. . .

            The door was close!

            His legs were giving out.

            He was screaming and  he heard them screaming along with him in the conservatory above-a cacophonous female chorus accompanying his choked tenor.  His beautiful sisters were being pillaged along with their beautiful home.

            He reached for the door handle- grabbing onto it for dear, sweet life.

            Then the  hall exploded with compressed sound- all of the running stopped. Everything stopped

            Caught in the emotional haze, he stared with unseeing eyes at his own slender, pallid hand- the hand that had wrought the most beautiful melodies from the desecrated piano in the room above. A hand suited to music and art and childish pursuits now gushed blood like a soldier's mitt. Gasping, he  released the door and clutched his wound with his good hand. He watched the red juice as it caressed the length of his arm-soaking his good linen shirt and mingling with the blood of his father.

            His pulse pounded more fervently-he was totally deafened by it. He was unable to the hear the cries of the soldiers and the second shot. But he felt the air around him grow dense. The Winner heir subconsciously embraced his impending death.

            There was only silence before he collapsed. 


	2. I Duettino

**I.**

**Duettino –**

**Dolore.******

**__**

****

**_Dolore_**

_Are we to blame for nightmarish Dreams_

_In which all things are just as they seem?_

_Why can't the sleep-haze smother man's scream?_

_And all that awake-time. . .life matters not without _

_Dreaming.___

            His bedroom was charming.

            It was pristine and cool- full of pale blues and yellows with hardwood floors and  a silk-spun area rug. His queen-sized bed was an antique oak canopy and his sheets were bleach-white.  Since the  wooden, Venetian blinds had been opened, healthy, natural light streamed in through the big bay windows. The sunlight hit the paintings- the classical English portraiture- in a delightful way, but it was unnaturally cruel to the waking eye.

            His bedroom was charming. . .and this was where he awoke.

            He rose his sleepy head- tousled hair hanging in his goo-filled eyes.

            _'It was a dream. . .How dreadful. I have the cruelest imagination. . .'_

            He rose his hand to his eye and painfully-for both his hand and his eye- wiped the corner crust on the gauzy binding. 

            Pulling his hand from his face slowly, he turned it back and forth and watched the movement curiously.

            _'Perhaps it wasn't. . .But. . .'_

            His eyes searched his room- it was completely intact; nothing had been taken or destroyed. But, after a quick glance at his sweaty and bloodied apparel, he knew that the incident in the basement had, indeed, occurred.

            Taking in a deep breath, he directed his attention back to his wound, which had been cleaned and bound beautifully. He stroked the  bandages and winced as his own touch caused him pain. Realizing that his exploration would only lead to more pain, he instead studied it with his eyes and tried to analyze the state of his appendage.

            It was in one piece and it still resembled a hand. He wiggled his fingers. They were stiff  and every movement shot tiny darts of pain up his forearm, but they'd be fine.

            He sighed in relief.

            "Are you admiring my handiwork, little brother?"

            Raising his head toward the door, Quatre was greeted with a  truly lovely sight. Hair the color of burned gold and a smile that immediately thrust his heart into a song. His smile spread far and wide.

            "No pun intended, of course. . ." She winked.

            "Oh, Irea. . ." He whispered and flung his arms around his sister as she sat herself beside him on his bed.

            He wanted to weep. Both with joy and with the fear that he'd been suppressing.

            "How are you feeling?" She asked in her lyrical soubrette tone, stroking his hair from his face.  He forced a smile.

            ". . .Dirty and bloody and. . .hurt. .. –y."  She wiped a dirty smudge from his pale cheek.

            "I'll get a bath going when you're ready for it. But you'll have to keep that hand  from submerging. . ." She warned. "It'll take awhile for that sucker to heal. . ."

            Glancing at his poor hand, Quatre bit his lip.

            "I. . .I was shot, wasn't I?" His tearful question garnered a delicate shimmer of a laugh and a small hug.

            "Oh, Quatre. I'm sorry- yes, you were shot. The bullet grazed your wrist and  hand and took off a good hunk of skin. Don't worry- it'll scar, but there's no serious, permanent damage. It was a gushing wound, though, so you lost quite a bit of blood by the time that Ozzie brought you into the conservatory."

            "I. . ."He frowned and stared at the floor. "How long was I unconscious for?"

            "Forty-eight hours. You were in shock. . .with good reason." She murmurred.

            He bit his lip- Quatre didn't want to seem weak to his sister. He wanted to hold it all back- it still hadn't really sunk in yet. But he was on the verge of erupting. "I. . .thought I was going to die." Tears took form in his eyes  Irea brushed back his bangs fondly. "I thought they were going to kill me. . .I thought they'd killed you!" He cried, navy eyes wide  and luminous as he submitted to the impending sforzando. Irea wrapped her arms around her brother's small waist as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. He let out a quiet mew. "Irea. . .say it was just a nightmare. . .please, say. . ."

            "Quatre. . .I'm sorry. But. . . you know we don't lie in this family." Her words were their father's, which caused them both to choke up. Slightly overcome, Irea  stroked her little Quatre's downy head and tried desperately to keep herself strong. "Oh, Quatre. . .I'm sorry. . ."

            ". . .Father is dead." His voice was haunted and frigid.

            "Don't say it like that. . ."She gasped. He pulled away to stare at his white face.

            "But. . .they killed him, right?" He whispered tearfully. "Was that a dream? Please. . .say" He knew the answer.

            '_My father. . .died. . .trying to save his empire. . .no, to save us. . .'_

              "It. . .was a nightmare. But it was no dream." Irea intoned, holding Quatre painfully close. She'd had been there-right beside him-close enough to be splattered with their father's blood as he was shot in the head close range. . .

            _"Mr. Winner- The United Earth-Colony Sphere alliance has decided that your monopoly on the L4 natural resources  needs to be terminated. The earth-colony alliance will be strengthened by your retirement- L4 no longer needs your dictatorship. . ."_

_            "My dictatorship? Excuse me, gentlemen, but I fail to see how your fascist regime could possibly bring peace to the colonies. . ."_

_            "'Fascist Regime'? How dare you! The __Alliance__ has come to end your tyranny, Mr. Winner. With the Winner Foundation dismantled, we will finally be able to properly construct a  healthy relationship between the earth and the colonies."_

_            "Which includes the dictators of the earth subjugating the people of the colonies. . ."_

_            "Father- stop. . .!"_

_            "No, Quatre. I will not allow them to take this from us. How dare you! All of you Oz officers are the same- spouting clichéd promises of hope and peace when, in reality, you're just blood-thirsty parasites. You have stormed my house and purposefully frightened my staff and, most tragically, my children. Get off the premises now. I will sign no contract with the __Alliance__ or the Specials. . ."_

_            "Mr. Winner- Our superior was prepared for this response, so I would like to present to you a  warrant for your arrest, signed by the head officials of the __Alliance__ Organiza. . ."_

_            "Damned __Alliance__!__ Do you think their jurisdiction matters to me? Get off my property. If you don't leave I'll force you. . ."_

_            "He's got a gun. Mr. Winner, don't do anything rash. . ."_

_            "Leave my family alone. . ."_

_            "Sir. .. "_

_            "Leave. . ."_

_            The shot._

_            And then the death._

            Quatre shuddered. 

            His father had been so righteous. Like the patriarch he was, he protected them to the end of his life. His life had ended so early, simply because a trigger finger had slipped in a moment of weakness.

            _'Father. . .'_

            "Oh Quatre. . .don't. . don't think about it." Irea whispered soothingly in his ear. He curled up against her and unconsciously wiped his tears on her cream sweater. "It'll be all right, my little Quatre. . .We'll. . .we'll get through it. . ."

            "What's going to happen to us now?" He sniffled, but spoke with a steady voice and a clarion tone.

            He wanted to be strong for his sisters.

            "The Alliance military is occupying L4, just like most of  the other colonies. Their commander has ensured our safety and has assured us that we still own all of our property and will continue to do so." She  paused and sighed. "I don't think they came here to hurt us. . .that soldier was. . .stupid and overzealous." Irea glanced down at his hand. "Just like the one who did this to you. . ." 

            "Irea. . they hurt all of you too. . I heard you screaming. . ." He murmured guiltily. "After I. . .freaked out. . .I ran down to the attack shelter. I thought you would follow me but you didn't. . .but I heard them chasing me, so I had to keep running.  I stopped in the tunnel and heard shooting and screaming from the conservatory and I thought. . ."He choked and blinked back his tears. "I thought. . . 

            "No, Quatre- they didn't hurt us. We're all still here." She stroked his head and wiped his face. "After Papa was shot someone radioed into their main force and the Special's commander came in to. . .clean up. . ."  Her words were full of venom. " After the  "incident" was reported, the Oz commander just. . . shot the bastard."  Quatre stared at her, astounded. "He didn't say anything at first. But walked up to that soldier and stared him in the eye and pointed his gun. 'You know why I have to do this.' The commander's voice was like ice. And then he just shot him!" She gasped. "That's probably when you heard us screaming and the shot being fired. It ricocheted off the man's ribcage and hit the piano. It made us all jump." She shook her head angrily. "I. . suppose I should've felt a little avenged. But I didn't- I just started to hate Oz even more. It was unnecessary. . .It made father's death seem like an inconvenience rather. . .rather. . ."

            It was Quatre's turn to be the strong one, as he  held his grieving sister.

            Then they held each other and grieved together in mutual silence.

            One can only give the world so many tears before the well runs dry. After their combined oasis had  desiccated, Irea ran Quatre a bath. Knowing exactly how her little brother liked it, she filled the tub with water just hot enough to turn his porcelain-like skin a ruddy red. After she'd helped him remove his shirt, Irea let him be.

            The little space prince (a name his sisters had dubbed him) sank deep in the tub, all the while taking extra care of his bound, right hand. With his left, he lathered himself up as best he could and struggled to wash his blood-matted hair.  He scrubbed his nose,cheeks and chin raw with an itchy white facecloth, suddenly feeling extremely violated by the clinging drops of blood that were speckled across his button nose. When he finally felt more clean than dirty, he leaned his head back and rested it on the floating, plastic pillow that Irea left for him. He inhaled deeply and tried to block the raging memories from invading his consciousness.

            He would hear that clashing symphony for the rest of his life.

            The shot would resound like the final gong in the back of his mind and his sister's screams. . .they were as Verdi's Dies Irae and he knew they would plague him endlessly.

            _'I.__ . .will never forgive the __Alliance__. They have brought so much suffering. . . How can they not see that what they are doing is wrong? How can they not notice the pain and trauma they inflict? All father ever did was help people- we financially supported the entire colony! Our family helped build the colony and has sustained it, acting as a perpetual caregiver. The colonies were fine without Oz- we've been peaceful from the start. . .There. . .was no reason for them to come. We were defenseless. . .We were. . .weak.'_

            His last thought came out of nowhere and shamed him.

            A crisp knock on the door brought him back to reality.

            "Hey, kid- are you in there?" The voice was that of an uncouth, extremely disrespectful Alliance soldier. Quatre glared at the closed door. "Kid. . is anyone. . .?"

            "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner, and I am presently bathing. I will be finished shortly. . ."

            "Kid, his excellency wants to talk to you. So get your little space cadet ass out here now."

            The nerve.

            "Would you please inform his Excellency that I shall be down momentarily. I wouldn't want to present myself in a less that clean, or less than modest, state." Quatre replied earnestly. _'You think this man would catch my drift. . .'_

            "Look, kid, his excellency doesn't care what you look like. In fact, he'd probably prefer it if you. . ."

            "Excuse me? Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" The man's crass reply was greeted with one of Irea's pseudo-tantrums. Quatre could hear his sputtering through the door- his sister was a mean combination of beauty, brains and backbone. 

            "He is injured." She continued. "He can't get out of the tub without assistance. And here you are- insulting him after one of your comrades shot him when he was simply trying to protect himself after you murdered his father!  You are the most ignorant, pompous ass I've ever met! Get out of here and tell 'His Excellency' that Quatre and I will meet with him when Quatre feels strong enough to do so!"

            Still huffing, Irea entered the bathroom and, rolling her eyes, handed him a warm bath sheet. He couldn't help but giggle.

            "Irea, that was brilliant!" He exclaimed as she helped him out of the tub and into the warm towel.

            "That man was intolerable." She burst out. "I can't believe he would address you in such a manner! They are OUR guests. . .in a way. . ."She trailed off painfully. Obviously struggling with it mentally, Irea forced a grin and pinched his nose.

            They would be strong for each other. 

            _'If we don't smile, it will be disrespectful to father's sacrifice.' _

            Quatre  beamed outwardly, even though it pained him inside.

            "I brought you some clean clothes." Irea presented them to him. They were still warm. "I'll leave you to get dressed and I'll bring you up some dinner. Then-and only then-will Quatre Raberba Winner grace Oz with his presence."

            He dressed himself in the handsome navy vest and trouser combination that Irea had brought along with a new linen dress shirt. He loved the feeling of newly pressed clothing-the lingering warmth of the iron translated to feelings of affection. He attempted to comb his hair back, but his  bangs were temperamental, and always rebelled against his brush. They flipped back over his forehead and flickered in his line of view.

            "You need a haircut, little brother." Irea murmured as she entered with a particularly mouth-watering dinner plate. They sat down together on the floor and had a picnic on the rug. Every opportunity for jest that presented itself was  seized- from mock fights over the dumplings to Irea's wine-glass singing to Quatre's milk mustache. They stretched the dinner out as long as they possibly could, laughing gaily and  mimicking possibly scenarios involving 'His excellency', most of which involved a  grumpy old man  fainting upon witnessing Irea's (and in some instance's Quatre's) beautiful face.

            Around nine-thirty- three hours after the initial beckon- the Oz officer returned to Quatre's room and knocked on the open door politely. Irea rose to meet him. The arrogant  specials lieutenant glanced at her, then turned his hard black eyes on Quatre.

            "Mr. Winner- His excellency was wondering if you would join him for a nightcap. . .sir." The officer's bushy eyebrows furrowed as he bowed respectfully before the Winner heir.  Quatre noticed his sister's smirk in his peripheral vision, but he acted as courteously as possibly. Extending a hand, he presented a charming smile.

            "You may call me Quatre, Lieutenant. . ."

            "uh. .. Nichol. Thank you  Mister. . .Quatre, sir."  He saluted. Quatre withdrew his hand and saluted back as best he could. "Now. . .Quatre. .. if you would just follow me to the parlor. . ."

            "Lieutenant Nichol, this is Quatre's house- he knows where the parlor is." Irea reminded the Oz soldier. The Lieutenant glared in Irea's general direction. Quatre decided it was time for him to  exhibit his uncanny diplomacy ability.

            "Lieutenant, I would very much appreciate it if you would escort me to the parlor- I'm weak from my injury and I may need your assistance  if the blood loss starts to catch up with me."

            Nichol smirked and bowed. Irea simply rolled her eyes and mimicked him.

            _'Irea can be so immature sometimes- it's really quite refreshing. . .'_

            "My pleasure. Please, follow me." Lieutenant Nichol announced, presenting the door with an outstretched arm.  With a wistful glance back at his sister, Quatre  allowed himself to be escorted through his own house-to his own parlor- by an enemy, to meet with the man who was responsible for his father's death.

            Quatre made sure to smile as he found himself in the parlor doorway.

            Because if he didn't. . .he would most likely kill someone. 


	3. II Duettino Recitativo e Aria Duettino

**II.******

**Duettino.**** Recitative+Solo. Duettino-**

**Nobile.      Irato.                 Lusingando.**

**_Nobile_**

_The tragedy of man is not that we die_

_But that some die without changing the world_

_For it's upon the change that humans rely_

_And only change can deny anonymity._

**_Irato_**

_And will God raise me up from this hell_

_If I love my enemy as my brother?___

_If I forgive the puppeteer who_

_carefully__ moves the players_

_From one corner of the stage to another?___

_It hurts._

_The Sun's as sick as my fevered brow_

_Retching from the sight below_

_Suffering's spawned from human row_

_And spreads in time with the bloodied flow.___

**_Lusingando_**

_The hermit thrush, its trilling song_

_Reminds me  of my lover's lips._

_How they purse when I am wrong_

_And how they brush the glass he sips._

_The hermit thrush, its wondrous down_

_Reminds me of my lover's skin_

_Silken, golden-world renowned_

_And how it speaks of lust and sin.___

_The hermit thrush, its glassy glance_

_Reminds me of my lover's air_

_How he drifts off in a trance_

_And how it cruelly says beware._

            The parlor was dark save the flickering fire and its comforting aura.  He could feel the heat from the doorway and became entranced (as he quite often was) by the monstrous shadows on the walls. Quatre glanced up at Lieutenant Nichol, suddenly quite nervous.

            "Don't worry- he just likes to be dramatic." Nichol offered  with mild empathy. Quatre wrung his hands miserably and watched  the Lieutenant as he left to return to his station.

            Realizing that all this hesitation was making him appear weaker than he already was, Quatre took in a deep breath and entered his parlor.

            "Y. . Your Excellency?" He cursed himself for stammering and he cursed his pretty, alto voice. 

            "Master Winner."

            Quatre stopped in his tracks, ten meters from the hearth. The parlor was large but for some reason, he suddenly felt boxed in. He nervously glanced around. His eyes came to rest on a tall figure as it rose from the right hand chair. Quatre swallowed his pride-and the large lump of fear that had crawled it's way up his throat- and bowed low.

            "Please. There is no need for that. Not between us."

            The man's voice was smooth, trained and polished like abalone. It was a lyrical-even sweet- baritone high in its register. The speech pattern was perfectly pulsed with elegant diction and an aristocratic lilt.

            It was not the voice of a tyrant, but of a hero.

            He came forth and offered his strong hand to Quatre, which the young man accepted graciously, albeit nervously.

            The Oz Commander eclipsed the fire, which cast warm shadows over the man's features, but Quatre cold tell that he not only sounded heroic, but looked the part as well.

            Quatre's fear subsided and he smiled.

            "Quatre Raberba Winner."

            "Treize Kushrenada. Won't you join me at the fire, Quatre?"

            With a nod, Quatre followed the duke to the large, burgundy leather armchairs that rested before the roaring fire. Treize took the one on the right, which left Quatre the one on the left.

            '_This.__ . .is my father's chair. . .'_

            He felt nervous and a little thrilled about sitting in his father's favorite perch, but his desire to stay in the duke's good favors won out over his discomfort. He sat and was comforted by the smell of his father's lingering cologne.

            He was glad that he'd cried himself dry.

            "Quatre, would you like something to drink?" Treize offered as one of the low ranked soldiers entered from the hall. "Please, do not take the offer as disrespect- I do not wish to assume your place as the head of this house. I only offer because my man is ready to serve you."

            Had he been any more charming, Quatre would've been wary of Treize's kindness. But there was a knightly sincerity in his manner that Quatre had never witnessed. For some inexplicable reason, this man-who had ordered the attack on the Winner Foundation- had won Quatre's respect without the Winner heir even realizing it.

            "Perhaps some herbal tea?" Treize offered. Quatre nodded.

            "Yes, thank you- that would be lovely." 

            After nodding to his superior, the grunt exited hurriedly.  Quatre watched Duke Kushrenada as he leaned his head against the back of the chair and inhaled.

            Then, without noticing, the young  beaurocrat did the same.

            They sat in an eerily comfortable silence until their drinks came- Quatre's chamomile tea and Treize's sherry.

            Treize took  a sip from the small glass and stared intently into the fire.

            "Quatre- While I don't wish to upset you more than I have, I must address my concerns before it becomes disrespectful. I apologize beforehand if I insult you or your family, for I do not  mean to be cruel in the slightest. However, all humans interpret  words differently, therefore, what I have to say to you might upset you. May I continue?"

            Slightly flustered, Quatre nodded. With a comforting smile, Treize spoke into the fire.

            "Quatre. . .I am truly sorry for your loss. The sorrow our coming has caused you and your family is inexcusable." Quatre felt himself tremble slightly. "This. . .unforgivable act. . .was never intended. When earth decided that the amalgamation of governments was essential, we never intended to truly overthrow the governing parties. I had planned on asking your father to join the Romefeller Foundation Council, so he could act as the stationed president of the L4 cluster. But. . .since the joining of the earth sphere alliance and the Romefeller foundation, there have been many issues that have arisen in the ranks. Some of the soldiers don't agree with our policies, while others follow orders religiously." He grimaced ruefully and put a delicate gloved hand to his forehead. "I'm afraid that I have been a poor leader for my troops- had I given them sufficient guidance, your father would be sitting in that chair with me tonight with you by his side. I. . .apologize and ask for your forgiveness. Your father was very brave- he died for his ideals and for the future of his family and world.  His existence will forever be etched in my heart. Master Winner. . .please forgive me for implying a war that would not be." 

            Quatre watched in awe as tears shimmered in the Duke's eyes. He felt a slight pain grow in his chest at the sight of the repentant aristocrat.

            _'He.__ . .is truly sorry. His words are confusing but, for some reason, I understand. I. . father. . .would you forgive him?  Should I? He's hurting so much and it wasn't even his fault. . .but, what of my hurt? And all of my family's? I. . .but he's so wounded, it's hurting me. . .'_

            "I. . .recognize the mistake, and I thank you for your sincerity." Quatre pronounced the words the poured out of his  psyche. "I. . .will forgive you, but the wound is too fresh in my mind for my mouth to form the words themselves and to mean them."

            The Duke accepted this wisdom and Quatre felt the pain subside.

            Treize took another sip of his glass and jingled the ice delicately.

            "Another issue I must address is that of your condition- how are you feeling?"

            "My con. . .?" Quatre glanced down at his hand. "Oh, It's fine. The bullet simply hit the fleshy part of my hand and grazed my wrist. My sister  told me it was a "gusher" though, since it grazed my wrist." He chuckled, as did the Duke. "I won't be able to play the piano or the violin for awhile, but I suppose that's better than losing my hand entirely, which I thought I had."

            "Yes, your sister told my subordinate that you had gone into shock. It did look much worse than she's deemed it to be."

            Quatre sipped his tea and nodded.

            "She's a very skilled physician."

            "She is . . ."Treize agreed and frowned. Then he paused. "Quatre. . .do you think she would be willing to tend to some of my men? On our way here we were attacked by a group of space pirates calling themselves the White Fang- my men were brave and we emerged victorious, but some of them have been badly wounded. Would it be  proper to ask her to help us?"

            "I. . .Irea is a professional and holds human life in the highest regard." Quatre's heart was pounding- the Duke had asked for his advice as if he were the head of the household! He suddenly felt a great surge of pride. "She may take a bit of convincing, but I know that she would never let your men suffer for long. She might become passive aggressive and skimp on their painkillers though." Treize chuckled.

            "Thank you, Quatre.

            "My pleasure." He smiled contentedly, all worldly pain momentarily lost, when he suddenly had a thought. "Your Excel. . .Treize? May I ask you a question?"

            The young duke sipped his drink. 

            "Certainly."

            "W. . why did you kill the man who shot my father?" Quatre's voice shook slightly.

            "I personally did not kill that man. I had my subordinate do it."

            "But why?"

            "Are you upset by this?" Treize looked genuinely concerned. Quatre pursed his lips.

            "A little, I must admit. It may be that I'm still in shock, but. . .I don't think it's right to kill. Anyone. That includes murderers."

            "You felt no need for vengeance?" The Duke was truly curious. Quatre shook his head.

            "I. . ."He faltered. He wasn't sure what he needed- he was too numb.  But Treize seemed to understand.

            "You're right- it was hasty. However- my battalion has an unyielding set of guidelines to follow. The soldier who killed your father betrayed his oath and needlessly killed a civilian- that is not the work of a soldier, but an assassin. We are not the old alliance army, Quatre- we do not brutally murder bystanders and politicians. My organization-Oz- fights for peace while upholding the set of ideals that will bring justice and balance to this united community. He. . .was in the wrong.  But I should have put my policy on hold and first consulted with the head of the house."

            "It's all right. . ."Quatre murmured dejectedly. "I. . .was just wondering, I suppose. What happened to the man that shot me? You didn't kill him did you? Or shoot him in the hand?"

            "No." Treize chuckled. "But his commanding officer did fire a warning shot that  skewered his coat-tails." Quatre bit back a smile. "He's been court martialed, but he's still alive."

            "Good." Quatre sighed and sank into his father's. . his. . .chair. He held his mug in between his hands and enjoyed  the wafting smell of lemon and honey. To his right, Treize finished his sherry.

            "I was wondering," Treize cut into the silence. "If you would show me your gardens after you've finished your tea. I'm sure they're exquisite at this time of night, under the dying sun. Are you healed enough to go outside?" Quatre finished his tea and nodded.

            "There is no reason for my wound to deter me from a simple walk." Quatre pointed out. "There is nothing wrong with my legs."

            "Then shall we?" Treize asked, rising from his seat. The young heir nodded and stood as well.

            "Let's."

            They walked the  cobblestone path through the gardens, chatting as only the best of friends and the best of enemies can.. The sun was dying, dripping down the horizon in a wash of gilded purples and oranges.  Each of the indentations in the stones seemed to absorb the  pallet, and the greenery shone with a hallowed, golden aura.  Quatre found himself frequently glancing at Treize to gauge his reaction, desperately seeking his approval. But the young duke was obvious with his pleasure, as he took a moment here and there to study the munificent gardens.

            "Your colony is so quiet. So beautiful." Treize murmured as the walked the stone path back to the front gate.

            "Thank you very much." Quatre whispered, flushed with praise.

            They stopped at the gate when the Duke placed his hand on the young heir's shoulder.

            "Quatre. . .Until this entire ordeal is straightened out, my regime will be staying here on L4. If this bothers you, I need to know now. My men are currently residing in your home- I feel that I should discuss this with you. While we have invaded your colony, we do not wish to harm anyone else. I believe I will leave the decision up to you."

            Quatre took a moment to ponder.

            _'Do I let them stay here?  Is this what Treize is asking me? But. . .I can't say yes or no without. . .wait. . .It's my responsibility now, as the head of the family. . but. . .what will my sisters think? Will they think me weak? Am I weak? What would father do?  Treize is so kind and. . .he. . .for some reason I want him to accept me. Why?  Why do I care what some aristocratic tyrant thinks?. . .but he's no tyrant. I. . .want to be a good heir. I want to represent my kingdom well. They've already invaded, so I guess there isn't much point in me turning them away. . .Is that what you would do, father?  I think that's my best choic. . .'_

            "I. . .would like to extend my hospitality towards you and your regime, Duke Kushrenada." He announced formally. "I will speak to my sister Irea and see what she can do about your wounded men. So, if you would, sir, please consider yourself guests in our home. If anyone needs anything, my staff can take care of. . ."

            "Quatre- my men do not need to be coddled. But thank you for your kindness." Treize smiled sincerely and clasped Quatre's arm.

            It was unlike any other handshake he'd felt.  This. . .was a knight's handshake.

            "Now, Master Winner, I should take my leave of you. I must inform my superiors of your decisions and try to solve this crises in the least painful way for all of us."

            "Then I will say goodnight to you, Treize."

            "Goodnight, dear Quatre."

            Quatre watched the aristocrat leave and then made the long journey up to the fourth floor to his bedroom. He snuggled into his tightly-made bed , making sure to prop his right hand up on one of his many shammed pillows.  The sun had disappeared and the moonlight now shone through the bay windows and settled onto the floor.  It was so perfect and pure, in both shape and content and. . .

            Quatre began to brutally weep.

            He wept for his father. He dead,cold and rotting father. Killed by circumstance and ignorance and Oz.

            He wept for sisters. Their screams filled his head- the banshee choir accompanied by the murdered piano.

            But most of all, he wept for himself.

            He was so god damn weak.

            He cursed his own name- metaphorically spat on it.

            He was a traitor to his family and to his father's pacifist ideals, trading them in for Treize Kushrenada's charisma and knightly romanticism. 

            He hero-worshipped the Oz knight. He wanted to be like him. To be charming and wise and powerful.

            He wanted to make his dead father proud. . .but now, he would never know.

            Never.

            _'I'm sorry. . .so sorry. I. . .this is all crazy. I'm an awful person and I'm attracted to an awful cause and an awful set of ideals. Please, father- what should I do? I. . .I'm hurting so very badly. I am so weak. I love you father- I do. We didn't say those things but. .  .oh ,god, please- what am I doing?  This. . .I can't handle this.  My father's murderer- the man, not the weapon- is here. . .do. . .do I forgive him?  Can I? It hurts so much not too. . .I'm sorry I ran. I ran away from your death like a cowardly child. . .which I am. . .I. . .damn. . .I. . .am such a fool.'_

            He wept in his down pillow, burying his face in its softness. He wanted to hug it and pretend it loved him, but his wound only allowed him a safe embrace.

            He kept his sobs quiet, muffled, and soon they died down to a delicate whimper. His eyes were irritated from the tears and the pillowcase material, so he went to his en-suite bathroom to wash away the salty film. He avoided the mirror- he knew he looked horrid and didn't need to be reminded. After gulping down a couple glasses of water, Quatre stumbled back to his cool sheets and warm duvet. As he climbed in, he glanced over to the window to drink in the moonlight.

            There was a bird.

            Blinking, Quatre climbed out of his bed and  padded over to the open window.

            Yes- indeed, there was a bird hopping along the windowsill.

            Quatre rarely had these types of visitors; because of the garden and the vast amounts of flora, the birds generally kept to their lofty perches.

             He moved slowly and sank quietly onto the bench in the window box.  The little feathered creature hopped back and forth and stared up at him. It ruffled its tiny, russet feathers.  Quatre smiled.

            "Why hello. I believe you're a hermit thrush."

            It cocked its head slightly then took off suddenly, in a flash of flutter and song. Quatre closed his eyes and listened to that ariette- he often listened to the song and it always comforted him. Its coloratura was virtuosic and the jagged melodic line was so exotic.  In a moment, the tiny singer would vocalize a similar sequence beginning on another pitch, perhaps in a slightly different mode.  The thrush's song was so pure.

            He longed to regain that purity.

            Another chime-like strain skimmed the breeze.  

            And it was greeted with an echo.

            Quatre opened his eyes in delight and searched for the second hermit thrush. It had a darker quality to the voice- almost human- and absolutely enthralling. He watched the first thrush soar by on an air current. It dove down and perched on the blossoming apple tree that just hung over their man-made lake. It sang again.

            And its song was repeated.

            The Hermit thrush changed its pitch and sang another strain.

            That strain was echoed as well.

            It sang yet again, and this time the other thrush joined the song and they sang a duet in unison that tore Quatre apart with a resentful sweetness.

            _'I.__ . .want to be that bird.'_

            Suddenly the song ended. 

            _'I wonder what happened to the thrush?. . .'_

             Pushing the window as far open as it could handle, Quatre scanned the landscape for the thrush, which he could usually spot due to the moonlit-glean of its mirror-like eyes.  But the trees were bare and he heard no song.

            He looked further down-toward the beach- and found the cause.

            There was an intruder.

            A man. . . walking down the beach, toward the garden.

            This left Quatre slightly embittered.

            His one refuge-his one solace- taken, when he needed it most. . .

            He was almost incensed enough to call out to the man- to tell him it was private property. He didn't care if the man was one of Treize' soldiers- in fact, he almost hoped that it would be. Perhaps Treize would take the 'subtle' hint and leave.

            He shot invisible daggers from his eyes towards the man, who kept walking closer and closer. All Quatre could distinguish-aside from the tight Oz pilot suit- was his perfectly rhythmic gait and the strange way he held his arm up toward the sky. Just as Quatre was mentally commenting on it, the man brought his arm down to eye level.

            _'What is he doing out there? The sprinklers are going to go on any second.  Maybe I should call out to him. . .'_

            As he came closer, Quatre prepared himself to call out. He tried desperately not to sound as angry as he was, for he really had no reason to take it out on the visitor. The young heir waited for the stranger to enter the garden so he could call out without waking the entire household. Reaching the pink-blossomed apple tree, the stranger stopped and turned towards the manor, which gave Quatre a perfect opportunity to call out and reprimand the intruder.

            However, the words never fell from his lips.

            Quatre drew back into the shadows with a slight whimper as the scene before him was manifested in its entirety.

            The thrush. . .sat perched on the stranger's index finger.

            But this was not even the most wondrous part.

            Quatre shivered, swallowed hard and unconsciously stroked the  organza curtains that were neatly tied to the wall.

            The young man-for he was, indeed, young and a man- was flawless.

            Quatre had never loved and had always loved- as a person he loved everyone. He was accepting, adoring and affectionate.

            But this. . .was not like that.

            This was something much different. . .

            It. . .made his chest hurt. . .more like ache.

            The hermit thrush suddenly burst out into  it's heavenly aria and Quatre watched-utterly entranced- as the young man's  sinful lips pursed and whistled out the  perfect echo.

            _'. . .this. . is holy. . .'Quatre sank back down to his seat and leaned his head against the window frame._

            His eyes strayed over the human's features- an oval face with high cheekbones and a noble jaw line. His hair shone silver in the earth's moon's light, but it was dark and  cast one eye in shadow.

            Oh, what color were those eyes? A pacific blue? A fawn-like brown? Perhaps a stormy gray?  The shadows teased the young heir mercilessly. The thrush song  rose and fell in a chromatic, aural sine.

            But Quatre had forgotten his song of refuge. He'd found another haven.

            Suddenly, with a sweeping gesture, the divine visitor launched the twittering bird into the air- both creatures singing and whistling in perfect unison. With his subject's face now fully illumined by the moonlight, Quatre gasped and put his hands to his mouth. 

            "Green. Oh. . .they're green." He whispered breathlessly and moaned.

            The rarest color of all.

            The color God had picked for his holy earth.

            His palpitating heart slowed a bit as it fell into synch with the bird's song. The little creature traversed across the landscape and  bobbed along the wind.

            And it was headed straight for his window.

            _'No. . .'Quatre prayed silently_. 'Don't come here. . .he'll see me. He'll know I've been watching him. . .please. . .'__

            The bird landed on the window sill and sang its silly, irritating song. Quatre muttered a curse and ducked out of the line of view.

            _'Damn bird. . .'_

            It twittered and hopped along the sill.

            "Is someone there?"

            Quatre clutched at his chest- the organ fuelling his body with life-force burst into chaotic Bach capriccio.

            That face.

            Those eyes.

            That voice.

            That soft, powerful, rich voice. Measured and seductive and innocent. It was a cello and a wooden flute superimposed on renaissance court poetry. Quatre shook with fear.

            _'What is wrong with me. . .why is my heart hurting me?'_

            "Pardon me? Did you hear me?"

            Quatre clutched at his chest again and grunted.

            _'I can't. . .pain. . .no. . .I need to. . .'_

            Taking in a deep breath he crawled away from the window, then, standing, he approached it nonchalantly.

            It took every fiber in his being to remain standing.

            "Hello there."    Was the quiet greeting.

            "Hello yourself." Quatre smiled and managed to utter. The mysterious figure was now standing a few feet from-and several below- his window. Quatre was staring- he knew he was staring- and yet, he couldn't tear his eyes away from the young pilot. Quatre shuddered as he let his eyes travel down the boy's aesthetic physique and he quickly dismissed the  longing as it rippled through his feverish form.    

            "That hermit thrush likes you." The green-eyed youth remarked. Quatre couldn't bring himself to acknowledge the thrush.  He was mesmerized.

            "Not as much as it likes you." He blurted out. The young man arched his one visible eyebrow and Quatre immediately began to blush and stammer. "I. . I heard you whistling and saw it. ..with you." He finished lamely. A shadow of a smile graced the stranger's face. "You're really good. I couldn't tell the difference and I listen to them all the time. . ."

            "Those who spend their entire lives listening are privy to such secrets." The boy murmured cryptically. Quatre's pulse was pounding. "Why don't you try it?"

            "Try what, exactly?" Quatre forced out.

            The young stranger demonstrated by whistling to thrush's sweet serenade.

            "Oh. . I couldn't. . ."

            "Why not?"

            It was that simple.

            "I. ..don't know."

            "Just listen." The strange intruder  repeated the tune. Quatre listened. "Now, try."

            Licking his lips, he whistled .

            _'Uh. . .'_

            The thrush cocked his head. He blushed bright red.

            But.  . .for his troubles. . .he was given a present.

            A firm but gentle laugh fell from the boy's lips. Had Quatre not despised the adjective "angelic" after having himself referred to as such, he would've thus dubbed the melodious laugh.

            Lowering his head and still smirking, the stranger turned around slowly. His every movement was rhythmic and graceful like a tribal dancer or a leopard. 

            "That was pretty good. But you need to listen just a little more. . ."

            And with that,  he walked back along the beach.

            Quatre was speechless. . .almost

            "W. . Wait! My name's Quatre! Quatre Raberba Winner! What's. . ."

            The boy walked until Quatre's eyes could no longer follow his form.

            . . .

            . . .

            . . .Quatre blinked.

            His heart slowed to a normal pace and the flush left his cheeks.

            _'I.__ . .think I'll go to bed.'_

            He fell asleep the instant his full-up head hit the pillow.

            The hermit thrush watched its sleeping charge for a moment, then launched back into the twilight.


	4. III

**_The Heart Asks Pleasure First_**

_A Prose Opera_

**III.**

**Ariette.**** Ensemble. Trio.**

**Amoroso.********Burlando.**** Espirando**

**_Amoroso_**

_Last night I dreamed I was a thrush_

_Warbling the strain of the hermit kind_

_And I hopped along my lover's hand_

_As our songs and minds became entwined._

****

**_Burlando_**

_Children do as children will_

_And will not cease 'til they've had their fill_

_Off merriment and naughtiness_

_Which includes true love's first kiss_

_And then, in sudden, the child is gone_

_And in his spot is an angst-filled dawn._

**_Espirando_**

_My heart is now for the darkest knight-_

_The palest ghost that haunts in fright_

_The peasant throng- _

_He's the devil's boy on fallen wing. _

_Oh, angelic Wight,_

_Wrought from a dying spring_

_With staring orbs of golden green,_

_I'll have you-save you from the fall_

_In my arms, death matters not_

_In the least._

_L4 Colony_

_Winner____Mansion_

A.C. 196

Quatre awoke the next morning pleasantly disoriented and unconsciously giddy. 

Rubbing his eye in the most adorable fashion possible, the young heir-suddenly overcome with joy- jumped to his feet and ran to the window to greet the late sun. The day-star teased the boy mercilessly, darting in and out from behind the clouds; it was his own fault for waking so late in the day!

Behind the lush garden, Winner Lake glinted gold and teal and lapped onto the white beach with the light breeze. The lake and its gentle dash suddenly reminded Master Quatre of exactly why he was feeling the particular way he was feeling.

_Him._

A delicious shudder rippled through Quatre's form. He closed his eyes and replayed the events of the previous night. His cheeks grew hot- he put his healthy hand to his face- as he visualized his visitor walking towards his window, thrush in hand, whistling the simple song like a native bird. Quatre indulged himself and focused on each of the pilot's features that he'd permanently etched onto his mind's eye. He began at the tip of the boy's bangs and traveled to the sensuous mouth, then down all the length of the boy's strong, rubber-clad torso and long, powerful legs, all the way to the pilot's booted feet. Quatre opened his eyes, bit his lip, and looked up at the sun like the guilty little boy he was.

_'I'm being such a pervert. . .'_ He moaned bashfully and giggled innocently. Pulling away from the window, he instinctively pirouetted about his room.

Then. . .in realization. . .he threw himself onto his bed and buried his flushed face in his cool pillow.

_'What's going on? I. . .this is ridiculous. What the heck is wrong with me? All of this silliness. . .over a brief rendezvous. Very brief and very. . .'_ He sighed. _'No words. I have no words! Me- no words! Shouldn't I be spouting mouthful upon mouthful of beautiful poetry? Instead, I'm left speechless. Well. . .I suppose I still have the ability to babble incoherently in my own mind- so my power over language hasn't totally deserted me but. . .oh why didn't he tell me his name!' _Quatre moaned aloud and covered his head with a mountain of pillows._ 'I'm a damn fool. . .I'm acting like an neurotic child! He probably barely noticed me- he's probably angry with me for spying on him! I intruded on a sacred moment! He probably hates me! I hate me!'_

He cried out pitifully, stifling his own immature wail with the pillow. _'I made such a fool of myself- even the birds were laughing at me! And He was so kind- his face was so patient- no mockery, no. . .Oh my. . .I think I. . .'_

He sat straight up , jetting up through the sea of fluff and lace.

_'I need to see him now.'_

Quatre fell into a one-track mindset as he showered and dressed himself for the day. He fought mercilessly with his comb, but eventually failed in his assault on his hanging bangs. After brushing his teeth like a madman (just in case. . .) he spritzed and sprayed and doused himself in his most appealing cologne (which made him cough and gag and sneeze quite fiercely). He found a beautiful outfit which emphasized his most charming asset (his wealth) and stuffed a handcrafted handkerchief in the back pocket of his trousers to give the illusion of size to his childish little caboose.

Pleased with himself, Quatre strutted over to his full-length mirror to study the masterpiece he'd just fashioned from a skinny, pale piece of clay.

Wailing, he ripped the clothes off his body and began to tear his room apart.

_'I look like I'm eight!'_ His mind suddenly went into overtime_. 'I need something. . .anything. . .make me look tall! Make me look like a man!'_

He found nothing.

"Quatre."

He ran to his second closet, flung open the French doors, and proceeded to rummage frantically through his outfits.

"Quatre?"

"Shoot, darn, crap." Quatre muttered dejectedly. 

"Quatre Raberba Winner, what the hell are you doing?"

He spun around at the sound of his sister's voice. 

"Um. . ." He bit his lip nervously. Irea arched an eyebrow, while his youngest sister, Gloriana, snickered.

"Baby Quatre, you always have the cutest little undies. . ."

_'Oh yeah. . .'_ He scurried across the room and wrapped his robe around his blushing body. Irea gave him a pointed look.

"I. . .don't have anything to wear." He offered lamely. Biting back a grin, she looked around the room.

"So. . .what's all over the floor?"

"Um. . ."He laughed nervously. Then- glancing from one devoted sister to the other- he threw his hands up in desperation. "I look like I'm eight!" He gasped.

Irea's face melted into a humored pity.

"Oh my little Quatre. . ." She concealed her giggles in a croon.

". . .More like twelve, but I see your point." Gloriana frowned and started to pick up various articles of clothing. Irea glared at her and wrapped an arm around her darling brother's shoulders.

". . .You're the master of the house now, so you should look the part  to show that arrogant fop of a duke and his minions- I understand." Irea whispered softly. Quatre glanced up at her.

_'. . .That sounds good- I didn't even think of that. Let's go with that plan.'_ The little heir nodded glumly.

"Gloriana- would you call father's tailor and tell him to bring over his designs for Quatre? His adult designs."

"Sure, but I don't see how that'll help the little Space Prince right now. . ." The younger girl spoke, her saccharine voice oozing with candor.

"I'll help him with that- just go. We'll meet you downstairs in the salon for brunch."

Rolling her blue-gray eyes, the girl flounced out of the room. Irea smiled tenderly at her most favorite man in the world.

"Are you okay?" She asked. "You're usually up with the crack of dawn- how's your hand? What happened with his excellency last night? Have any of them tried to hurt you? How. .."

"Irea, stop with the salvo -I'm fine. I was just tired." He spoke quietly. Mustering up his strength, he suppressed all the invading memories of the last couple days, save the one image he was holding onto so dearly.

Nothing was going to ruin this day for him.

"Are you sure?" She frowned. "What did Treize say to you last night?"

"Can I tell you after I'm dressed?" He asked, demand coloring his halting tenor. Taken aback, Irea nodded.

"Of course- that was silly of me." She began to sift through his sea of clothing. "Don't worry, little brother-We'll find an outfit in here fit for a king." She pulled out a couple of articles and handed them to her little darling. "Because you are one- my little Space King. White and tan give the illusion of size- the pants will make you appear taller. I know you won't like the idea, but I'm going to get you one of Larathea's old blouses- one of the ones with the shoulder pads. This vest and this coat to top it off. You'll knock that vain duke right off his feet. Just a minute." The excitable girl hurried out of the room and Quatre dressed himself accordingly. Upon seeing the blouse, Quatre tried to put his foot down, but Irea merely tweaked his nose and finished decorating him.

_'How am I supposed to inspire respect in the people who've conquered our territory if I can't even inspire it in my own household?'_

"There… Oh, Quatre, you look magnificent!" Irea gushed and pinched his bum. Pausing for a moment, Irea took the handkerchief out of the first outfit's pocket and stuffed it- along with a second kerchief- in Quatre's back pockets. She clapped her hands together and sighed. "You are so grown up! I'm so proud!"

"Thanks Irea. . ." He smiled and checked his reflection.

He looked. . .sixteen. He blinked

Not-so-little Master Quatre grinned and threw his arms around his sister's neck. She giggled and tickled him in the ribs.

"Come along, your majesty, your presence is required at brunch." She curtseyed. He bowed low and motioned to the door.

"After you, my lady."

". . .And so, Lara and Gloriana just put that nasty ozzie in his place! I mean, the nerve of that guy- insinuating that we would actually appreciate his grubby, oily, blood-stained hands on our bodies! Just because we're beautiful, rich and charming doesn't give him the right to fondle us in our own household. . ."

_'I wonder what his name is. . .I bet it's something beautiful. Mysterious. . .Maybe he'll be at brunch. . .what do I say to him then? Why, hello! Yes, I love you. Won't you tell me your name? blah blah blah. .. I'm so confused..'_

". . .Then that Lady Une came in and told us that YOU said that we would be hosting the entire army at our house! Quatre, it was very wise political decision, but we just didn't have the room! The soldiers are sleeping all over- it looks like a bloody refugee camp, darling. . ."

_'He's a pilot. . .so he fights in one of those mobile suits like the maguanacs. . .Oh, I wish they'd been here to help father! I wish. . .i could've helped protect father. . .I wonder if he thinks I'm handsome? The pilot, that is. . .'_

"That Lieutenant Nichol is just dreadful- he's a snob and an ignoramus! He just argues with every thing I say. I was stitching up one of the soldier's wounds and he had the nerve to tell me that I wasn't needed- that the soldier would just have to 'tough it up'! This man was bleeding- I put in a good thirty stitches! Grrr. . .he just makes me so mad. . ."

_'Wait.__ . .what if he doesn't like men?. . .I mean, in a romantic sense. What if he only likes girls! What if he's married? What if he thinks I'm a spoiled child. . .what if he thinks I'm not kind enough. What if he thinks I'm too kind. . .What if. . .'_

"Well- all that aside- I think I've fallen in love with that dreadful Nichol. We've decided to skip out on father's funeral, kidnap the priest and elope. Then, what the heck- we're going to make passionate love in your cute little bed and. . ."

Quatre finally looked at Irea with wide and fearful eyes. She winked.

"Welcome back, little brother. Now just where did you fly off to?"

"I'm sorry Irea- I'm just a little preoccupied, that's all."

"Obviously. Oh Quatre, are you sure everything's all right?"

"Of course. And I'm sorry for not telling you that the soldiers were going to be staying here- it was quite late when I made the arrangement. I just thought that. . .all things considering. . .it would be the smartest thing to do. I just wanted to protect the rest of the colony by keeping them as far from the general public as possible. Treize has assured me- and for some reason I believe him- that they have no desire to start a war with us. I realize that most of the other colonies have given into the Earth-colony sphere alliance and I want to make sure that we stay on Romefeller's good side. They've. . .already taken out some of the natural resource satellites, as well as some of the colony resistance groups. I. . .just don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"Everyone knows that Quatre." Irea whispered sympathetically. " Father's council has already announced the events to the colony, but you will have to make a speech to your people, if only to calm their nerves." 

They reached the bottom of the stairs. Quatre stopped and stared out the foyer window at the legion assembled in his yard. One of the high-ranking officers- dressed in crimson-was addressing the throng. She was tall and demanded respect from her subordinates. Quatre admired her strength.

"That's Colonel Une." Irea explained. "She's 'his excellency's' right hand woman and commands the troops. She's the one who's been relaying Treize's messages to us, as well as the decisions the two of you have agreed upon."

"I'm sorry there has to be a go-between between us, Irea." Quatre whispered sadly, studying the Oz army's perfect formation. "I'll make sure from now on that we all discuss everything as a family. I. . .was feeling inferior and dominated so I acted rashly."

"Quatre, you are not a rash person- a little headstrong, sometimes- but you always think clearly and weigh your possibilities. You are the head of the household." Irea put a hand on Quatre's shoulder. "But, it would be nice if you would share your decisions with us- we want to support you."

"Thanks Irea." Quatre whispered, still watching the Oz soldiers. He spied Lieutenant Nichol over to the right of the company, along with a couple of soldiers dressed similarly. They were laughing and whispering and subtly pointing at the flock of Specials Officers.

"Nichol's such an idiot. They're all idiots, but he is especially. . ."

_'. . .Irea's attracted to him. She's so transparent it makes me sad.'_

Quatre kept his smirk to himself and turned back to Lady Une.

However, something far more appealing ensnared his attention.

Oh yes, it was _Him._

Coming up to the lot from the garden_, He_ strode through the throng of boys and soldiers to Colonel Une herself. Quatre's divine visitor seemingly had enough clout or status to stand beside the Lady as she lectured her troops.

Quatre unknowingly sighed.

His pilot was so beautiful.

Under the sun, his golden brown hair shone with rare highlights of red and sun-kissed bronze. Under the sun, his creamy, golden-olive skin appeared dewy and radiant. Under the sun, Quatre fell in love all over again.

_'. . .There's my poetry. There's my muse.'_

Quatre's pilot was seemingly a man of rank- dressed in a navy blue suit similar to the Colonel's, his position lurked somewhere in between Une's status and that of Nichol's group of buffoons, who were presently chortling like satiated hyenas. But Quatre had unconsciously known that already- even though their moonlit rendezvous had been less than brief. There was an intense nobility in the handsome boy's face- in the nose and the chin and the gait. The young man was currently staring at the ground, but, as if on cue, he rose his head and turned it toward the Manor.

They met eyes for a second time. Quatre froze in his spot.

He'd been caught. Again. 

A shadow of a smile graced the pilot's face, naturally turning the heir into a puddle of soggy goo. After a moment, the piercing green eyes traveled away from the manor-away from Quatre- and turned to Colonel Une. The young man bent over and whispered something in the Lady's ear which caused her to cease her verbal assault. Rising her eyes questioningly, she glanced toward the house and nodded. Then, turning back to Quatre's boy, she motioned to the sea of privates, then left him to deal with the troops. Quatre's pilot gave them a quick set of instructions and dismissed the lot. After an astounding unison salute, they all parted ways. Quatre tried desperately to follow his love's form, but soon the commanding officer was lost to him in the great shuffle. 

Sighing, Quatre pulled away from the window. His pulse slowed quickly.

"C'mon, Quatre. We're late for brunch." Irea whispered. Nodding slowly, Quatre pulled himself from the window and trotted after his sister.

_'Blue suit. . .I wonder what his rank is? I don't really understand the Oz system , but I'll bet he's in the top ranks. _

_ Which truly makes him Ozzie scum._

_ I wonder how many he's killed?_

_ I wonder if he's pillaged a village. . ._

_ I wonder if he's raped a maiden. . ._

_ I wonder if he killed the man that killed my father. . . _

_ I wonder how he mimics the thrush so perfectly? It WAS perfect- the tone, pitch, everything! I wish. . .I wish he was an anonymous private._

_ I wonder if he'll come by my window tonight. . .maybe I scared him off. Oh, what is his name! I'll bet it's something handsome and noble, like. . um. . .Wilhelm? ugh. . .no. . .um. . .Alexander? Ivan? Henry? Samson? Hugh? __Lawrence__? Caspar? Um. . .'_

"Psst! Irea! What's with Quatre?" Larathea hissed to the eldest sister present. Quatre looked up, utterly perplexed. He had simply been sitting there, minding his own business, totally absorbed with his delicious waffles and strawberries. The red-headed nineteen year old was hardly subtle. Quatre glared at her (as best he could, considering his angelic visage.) She rolled her eyes and looked at him pointedly. "Little brother, you're making googly-flirty eyes at me. And, unless you've suddenly developed some recent sick, pathological fixation with me, I'd say that you have found yourself a crush m'dear. So. . .who is it?" 

_'Gosh, she didn't even stop to take a breath!'_ Quatre gulped. _'Am. . .Am I that obvious? Was I really making 'googly-flirt'y eyes at Lara? I guess I better learn how to control my fantasies. . . At least it's just me and my sisters in here. . .'_

"I'm sorry Lara- I'm just preoccupied. So much is going on, I can't seem to keep my feet planted on the ground- I'm simply all over the place."

"Yeah right, Quatre." Gloriana cut in, mouth full of Belgian waffle. Irea glared. Gloriana meeped and swallowed forcefully. Then she continued. "We all know something's up- you're friggin' glowing. You wanted to dress all pretty and you were practically crying this morning because you couldn't find the perfect outfit. Now. . .spill it, blondie!"

"Gloriana!" Quatre gasped and blushed. Groaning, he put his cool hands to his face and attempted to hide his flushed cheeks. But this innocent act simply drew a chorus of maniacal giggles. Ten giggles from the ten present sisters. Even Irea. . .

His lip quivered. He couldn't control it.

"Oh Quatre, you are so adorable! I can't believe it! Your very first crush! Oooooh!" Leandra, the frumpy sister, ran over to him and squeezed his little body so very tightly. And the tighter she squeezed, the redder he became and the louder the laughter grew.

"Leandra, let me alone!" Quatre demanded meekly. After the girl had her moment, she left him, breathless and embarrassed, and returned to her sweetened strawberries and honeyed bread. A little mop of blond hair hid a reddened face that was cast down towards the floor.

"Quatre, honey, don't be ashamed- it's wonderful that you've found someone you admire. . .that way." Irea offered sagely. "You don't have to tell us who it is- though, if you do, we can offer wise, sisterly advice and stalk this person for you. . .You'll have an entire squadron of cunning and sneaky spies at your disposal. . ."

"And and. . ."Lavinya started- the prettiest sister with the speech impediment. "and we can. . .can s. . start rumors a. . about any c. . c. . .c. . .c. . .c. . .competition! whew! You might have. So you will have no trouble winning over your paramour!" She sighed dreamily.

"Oh Quatre, you have to tell us who it is!" Lara grumped. "None of us have boyfriends or even prospects, so we're just gonna have to mooch off your romantic happiness. So. .. who is it?"

"I'll bet it's Treize's cousin! That Dorothy chick!" Gloriana announced. "She has the prettiest hair and the nicest clothes. And she's so dominating. . .Quatre needs someone to dominate him. . ."

"H. .. h. . hey!" Quatre exclaimed. "What do you mean by. . .?"

"No way! She has those wickedly icky eyebrows!" Simone- the most developed of the sisters- arched her index fingers over her eyes and wiggled her forehead. "She's totally evil! Besides, everyone knows that Quatre's been pining for that Dorlian girl ever since she came through here with the vice foreign minister last month. Isn't that right, Quatre?"

"Relena? Ew! No way! I mean. . .she's um. .. our personalities don't really compliment each other." He finished cordially.

" Of course not Relena!" Lara announced broadly. "Opposites attract and Relena and Quatre are too posh and poised to be together- that relationship would have absolutely no spark-age. I think he'd like a soldier. . ." She trailed off. Quatre arched an eyebrow.

_'. . .well, that's a little closer.'_

"I know. Lucrezia! Une's assistant. She's hot. Kinda tomboyish, but pretty. An older woman. . .Whatchya think, Quat?"

"I don't think I know Miss Lucrezia." He replied with a sigh. Irea smiled at him and patted his arm.

"Quatre, you don't have to tell them. . ."

"Oh pish posh, of course he does." Gloriana interrupted. "Besides, we've only just begun. We haven't even started in with the men! Is it Treize?"

"What?!?" Quatre choked on his waffle. Gloriana cackled.

"Is it? Is it Treize Kushrenada? I bet it is! Hell, I want him too!"

"Glori!" Quatre groaned and Irea hissed. All the remaining women giggled.

"Mmm. . .Treize." Lara moaned and pretended to faint. A couple of the younger sisters followed suit. Quatre just shook his head and smiled forcibly at the display.

"No. It's not Treize." He said simply, though he was unsure of how he felt for the duke, he knew it was not sexual love.

"Not Treize? What's wrong with you? I guess Space Hearts are immune to sex appeal. Well then. .. how's about. .. Nichol!" Gloriana shrieked.

Even Quatre laughed at this.

"Lieutenant Nichol? Glori, what is wrong with you?" Quatre asked, breathless. She waved it off.

"I'm just kidding! Besides, everyone knows that Irea's got the hots for that hunk'o'man!"

She broke into hysterics.

However, the rest of the room remained in stunned silence.

Gloriana continued to laugh but the group cringed as Irea's face first become pale, then red, then purple with rage.

"I HATE THAT MAN!!!!" Irea finally lost it and threw herself at her little sister, who was powerless due to the intense taxation of her body by means of hiccupping laughter.

"Oh, Irea!" Quatre giggled and watched his sisters beat the hell out of each other. Beaming, he finished his waffles with relish (well, with whipped cream and strawberries) and started in on another serving.

"So. . .anyway. . ." Lara interrupted his quiet time. " Who is this charming person, Quatre? We're all dying to know who it is. I mean, we don't even know if it's male or female- With Quatre it could be anything. He could've fallen for the willow tree in the backyard. Love all living creatures- you're such a hippie, Quat. But. . Hell, we're just going to have to keep calling it "it" until you throw us a bone, Quatre. . ."

"Master Quatre!"

Suddenly, the wide oak doors swung open and the room was filled with L4 weasels. .ahem. .politicians. They ruthlessly invaded the Winner parlor. The L4 Deputy Prime Minister, The 'Honorable' Smithy Values approached the young beaurocrat with sweaty and clawing hands.

"Master Quatre, thank goodness we found you! You must come with us to the cabinet meeting." Deputy Prime Minister Values thrust his corpulent body between Quatre and the young man's food. He continued, totally unaware of the fact that he'd just ruined Quatre's day. "Master Quatre. . .Master Winner, we have a speech prepared for you and air time booked for this afternoon. We must get you over to the parliament house so you can address the council and the colony before this situation gets any worse. Please sir, will you come with us?"

Quatre sighed. He knew that he had to go- there was no two-ways about it. However, he'd never even been to a cabinet meeting and knew virtually nothing about the proceedings.

"I. . .I. . ."

"Master Winner, all you have to do is read the speech the writers have prepared for you- that's all. We have arranged all the rest. Please, allow us to escort you to the parliament buildings."

Quatre gave Irea his most pathetic look. She rolled her eyes.

"You better get going, Mr. Head of the Household. I'm sure you'll do fine. You know how to read, and we all know you know how to speak. So get going. You look great. . ."

Sighing, Quatre rose from the table and nodded. He slipped into a professional persona and nodded to the hoard of plutocrats and political rats.

"Lead the way, gentlemen. The people of L4 must be comforted."

_"My fellow citizens of the L4 colony cluster,_

_This is a time for grieving. Our enterprising Colony Director, Master Raberba Randolph Winner, was assassinated by a terrorist group during peace talks with the Romefellar Foundation four days ago. His colony weeps for him. However, From death comes rebirth, and here to explain the future of the L4 Colony is the future of the Winner Foundation, our new Colony Director, Master Quatre Raberba Winner."_

_"My dear people, before his death, my father was involved in a series of negotiations with the Earth-Colony Sphere __Alliance__, and its umbrella organization, the Romefellar Foundation. Alongside Grand Duke Treize Kushrenada, my father had planned to j. . .join with the Romefellar Foundation in hopes to bring a new type of prosperity to the L4 cluster. Our new relationship with earth will bring more resources to our peoples and will ensure our continued success. I know that my father would. . .w. .would w. .want us to carry out this proposal and accept the Earth-Colony Sphere alliance as a nurturing benefactor. As a result, the role of Colony Director will now be assigned to the nominated L4 chair residing on the Romefellar council. Until further notice, I will be inheriting my father's place as the L4 chair. Once the system has been fully worked out, we will announce the official positions involved in the Romefeller-L4 relationship. My people, I loved. . .love. .. my father very much and I hope that we can all work together to bring peace and affluence to our colony. I. . would like to make him proud, so I entreat you, my people, to help me keep his ideals alive. Thank you. Any and all questions from the floor will be addressed to my councilors."_

The garden was a Utopian solace for Quatre post-parliamental address. His most favorite spot was under the weeping willow, where his view of the world was tempered by the delicate dripping branches, and where the world's view of him was cast aside due to temporary obscurity. 

He felt so cheap.

Terrorist attacks. . .peace talks with Oz. . . .the Winner ideals. .. 

Lies. Sick and twisted Earth-lies.

Quatre had cried himself dry, so he had no tears left to mourn his moment of political prostitution.

Reaching above his head, bitter Quatre grabbed a handful of leaves and whipped them into the breeze.

_'Father. . .Oh father, I'm so sorry. . .I. . .wish I could apologize for loosing sight of the Right, but, frankly, I don't think I've ever known what the Right is. . .All I know is that I've betrayed you. . I'm useless and dominated and. . .an unworthy heir. S. .sorry.'_

He rested his head against the unyielding trunk and picked at the grass. Even the hermit thrush's song could not cheer his countenance.

"Master Quatre."

An obscured figure addressed him from outside the willow-haven. Quatre glared at the figure and ignored the requesting tone of the soldier's voice.

"Master Quatre."

"I am presently indisposed." He exclaimed haughtily and sniffed like a royal brat. In all honesty, Oz's presence was beginning to disturb him and he hated the throng of strange faces presently residing in his home.

"Master Quatre, I do hope you are well."

Quatre prepared a rude comment for the intruder. However, as the soldier entered the willow-sanctuary, Quatre bit his tongue and hung his head, suddenly overcome by his childishness.

_'I'm so ridiculous. . .I hate myself.'_

"Your excellency." Quatre began to rise, but with a smile Treize motioned for the cooling grass. Quatre was slightly flabbergasted as Treize sat beside him in the grass and handed him a mug of warm tea.

"Call me Treize, Quatre. And I've been searching for you, Mr. Winner." Treize murmured, bemused. " I'd hoped that our evening chats could become somewhat traditional, especially now that you are officially part of Romefellar."

"I. .." Quatre had no way of replying to that. But Treize continued.

"I sent Nichol to collect you, however, he was unable to locate you. Considering the events of the day, I realized that you'd probably retired to your own place of retreat. . ." Grimacing, Treize rolled a blade of grass between his thumb and middle finger. "These soldiers. . .young and anonymous as they are. . .don't understand the burden of the political heir, Quatre. So I didn't bother to send Nichol for you- he probably wouldn't have found you, though, judging from your frown, you probably would've preferred that."

Blushing, Quatre shook his head.

"I'm sorry. . .I, don't mean to be rude. . ."

"You're not being rude." Treize responded critically. "You're entitled to your privacy and our presence has obviously hindered this right. You are such an honest person, Quatre. . ." Treize sighed and leaned his head against the bark. "And you lied today- you spun a whole web of pre-fabricated deceptions in order to restore political order. It's. . .hardly justifiable. I'm sure you've tried to justify your words today, but don't bother yourself about it. You are entitled to your hatred, as you are entitled to your sense of justice. I. . .was once like. . .that. . .you. . ." He stroked the weeping foliage. "It was easy to find you- I had a tree like this when I was younger. It was so old- older than this one. Hundreds of years old. I hid there from my uncle when he was unnecessarily cruel to me-when Romefellar was young, my ideals were clearer and when my place in society was more vague. That was. . .not so long ago, Quatre." Quatre met Treize's earnest aqua eyes. "Quatre, I will be twenty six next month and I have been my uncle's- Romefellar's- darling since I was your age. I fancied myself a knight- I was bred and raised on chivalry and justice. But now. . . I am lackey to a few dozen bored old men who cling to their impotent ideals and fight like individualized plagues opting for world domination. It sounds dramatic, unfortunately- lofty words for utterly wretched ideals."

If Quatre had been impressed by Treize before, he was now oozing with hero worship. But with it came questions.

"If the men of Romefellar are so perverse, why should L4- why should I- join them? I. . I don't want to be part of that, Treize! I don't want to be corrupted like that. I don't want my planet to be corrupted." His voice sounded so babyish!

"That's why you need to join, Quatre." Treize responded calmly. "To help purify the Foundation. The blood is too old and the ambition is no longer justified- it is greed. These wars. . .these attacks are meaningless. I find myself questioning every order I'm given. We attack utterly defenseless planets. It is one thing for the strong to dominate the weak- but to wound the innocent. . .this is the work of a monster."

"And knights are meant to slay monsters." Quatre whispered.

Treize's eyes widened kindly and he nodded.

"Precisely. You. . .are so like what I was, Quatre. . ." Treize's well-modulated voice was full of nostalgia. "And I'd like to think of that as a viable option- your ideals are so, so viable. With you, I can begin to purify Romefellar, and your presence will bring a balancing weight to the council. With a focused pacifist on the board, the decisions made by the council will be sound from both points of view. " He sighed. "We are now the Power That Is- we have dominated and amalgamated most of the society. To remain the proud and noble thing that we are, we must understand and sustain the delicate balance between subjugation and democracy. That. . .is why you lied today, Quatre. That is how it is justified in my mind. It violated your principles and innocence- I'm sorry- but it maintained the innocence of your people, and it keeps them controlled. It sounds harsh, but it's a human necessity."

Quatre nodded breathlessly. Treize was able to spin words better than anyone- every word he uttered burst with knightly propaganda. But Quatre was seduced- it made sense to him. He wanted to make the world a better place and he wanted to rid the governing society of corruption. The duke's words touched his soul profoundly.

Treize's gloved hand lightly settled on the boy's chest, just above his heart. A spark passed between them. Quatre gasped and stared in wonder at the duke.

"You're an empath. . .like. . .me." Quatre muttered, awed. Treize shook his head. "H. .how. . .?"

" I'm not like you- you're so strong, Quatre. I felt your kindness the moment I stepped off my ship. No. . .I have very little power- only enough to understand what you experience." The duke paused and smiled wryly. "I must confess- once Romefellar's spies had reported that there'd been an empath located on L4, I decided I needed to meet you. Truthfully, it was my primary intention in coming here. Romefellar had decided to invade already, so I asked to head the assault. I don't usually engage in battles- my lady or Colonel Merquise generally handle these sorts of things. But I thought.. . If I could just meet you and explain the plight of Romefellar. . .that you would understand the necessity of this purification. You. . .you feel my passion, don't you, Quatre? Do you know from what it spawns?"

Quatre closed his eyes.

"It's. . .your love of people. You. . .love people and. . .the meaning of each, solitary life." Quatre opened his eyes wide. "Everyone is important."

"Yes. Every single person." There was a tear in Treize's eye. "E. . ."He stumbled for the first time. "Even your father's death- as thoughtless as it was- was important."

Quatre quivered inside at the mention.

"W. .why?"

"Because it brought you and I together. He. . .is a martyr."

Quatre gasped and let loose the flood gates. Without even realizing it, he was taken into Treize's embrace and cried into the duke's shoulder.

"He died so we could bring peace and purification. So. . .really. . .you didn't lie today, Quatre. Combined, the Winner family and Romefellar will bring about the realization of your father's ideals."

Quatre sobbed. His eyes and nose leaked all over Treize's pristine coat, which made him apologize profusely and cry harder. But the kind duke stroked the fine, platinum blonde hair and held the over-stimulated boy.

"It's difficult. . .they say that kings don't cry. But kings have a million people to weep for- a million tears are hard to hold back, Quatre."

Sniffling, Quatre wiped his eyes and forced a rueful smile.

"I'm sorry. . ."

"What did I just say?" Treize asked patiently, but kindly. "You're allowed to cry, Quatre. Suppressing your feelings. . .it puts a locked door between you and your loved ones. .." Treize suddenly appeared pained. "And eventually. . .the key just gets lost. No matter how much searching you do. . ."

Quatre said nothing but watched the young duke's face, which was suddenly slightly pale. The young boy shrugged.

"As an empath, it's pretty difficult to suppress my emotions- I'm too busy trying to dispel everyone else's to build barriers against my own. I'm often driven by my emotions. . ."

"You have a strong heart- it's a good leader." Treize responded, smiling- brightening. Quatre blushed.

"It. . .likes to work overtime."

"The heart of a king."

Quatre began to protest the remark, but was interrupted by the sound of heavy army boots, slapping quickly against the sand. The sound stopped the Duke as well. Voices came into earshot.

"Lieutenant, I command you to stop. . ." A woman's voice- dark with frustration- pierced the tranquil air. There was a snort from another party.

"I am not officially under your jurisdiction, Colonel, and I do not believe that your decisions in this matter are in accordance with his Excellency's ideals. . ." A sharp tone colored an exquisitely crafted, heroic voice.

Out of the corner of his eye, Quatre caught Treize's frown and furrowed brow.

"All of my commands have been ordained by both his Excellency Treize and the Romefellar Foundation. You have overstepped your bounds and are in danger of being demoted. . ."

"You have every right to demote me, Colonel- I've overstepped my social caste, after all. . ."

"All formalities aside, you are being a spoiled, belligerent child. . ." The woman snapped. "Don't involve your inferiority complex in this matter- your background has nothing to do with this upcoming siege, nor has it ever been an issue. The issue is that you are overworked and exhausted and Romefellar has decided to grant you a bit of a holiday. As a **reward.**"

"I don't need rewards- my reward is fighting and winning a well-fought battle, Colonel. And I'd rather not sit here on this crucified satellite like an ineffectual coward."

"The attack will go on as planned. . ."

"I formulated the god-damned strategy and Epyon is integral to its execution. Without my mobile suit, our attack will dissolve."

"Zechs will be taking your spot. . ."

"The modifications on the tall geese haven't been finalized. . ."

"You are staying on L4."

"You are committing martial suicide. . ."

"That's enough. . ."

"I demand to speak to Treize. I don't believe Romefellar would issue this order."

"You're right."

Sighing, Treize left the sanctity of the willow haven, pushing himself through the living, green curtain. The woman gasped and Quatre could hear the clicking of her boots.

"Treize. . .your excellency. What were you doing in . ." She trailed off.

"I was actually discussing politics with Master Winner- it was the only place we could find to have a private dialogue." At this, Quatre quickly rose to his feet and joined Treize and his subordinates in the open garden.

As he stepped out from behind the willow branches, he was met with the fierce gaze of Colonel-lady Une, who appeared both startled and unimpressed. But her expression melted into a smile as she extended her hand towards the Colony Director.

"Master Winner, a pleasure to meet you, sir. I am Colonel Une. You may know that I have been working with your sisters in order to maintain a peaceful and orderly environment in order to facilitate the discussions between L4 and Romefellar. I apologize for the lack of privacy- I will find and designate a room for business."

"Politics is often about improvisation- I rather liked our meeting au naturel." Quatre quipped. "But thank you for everything you've been doing, Lady." Quatre kissed her long-fingered hand. Her angular face was alight with flushed pleasure.

"What a charming young man! I see why his excellency speaks so highly of you." She exchanged a shy smile with the duke, who acknowledged their publicly known relationship with a small rub between her shoulder blades.

"Master Quatre will bring more to the political table than his wit, lady. I'm sure Romefellar will be proud to have such a distinguished individual at their table."

"You've officially ensnared him, your excellency- I see no reason for you to continue pampering his ego." A smooth voice, festooned with impatient sarcasm, interrupted the civil discussion. Quatre shivered though he was unaffected by the words. The voice. He turned.

He gasped.

"I'm sorry for my impatience, your excellency, but you interrupted our conversation with your dramatic entrance for a reason, did you not?"

Quatre's wondrous, gorgeous, perfect, poised, powerful and domineering pilot was also quite frank and crossed his arms irritably. Quatre bit his lip from gasping a second time.

The thrush-tamer was but a foot away. Quatre tried not to stare- he tried desperately- but the flashing jade eye was a seductive anomaly- like a tinted black hole. For a second the pilot met Quatre's eyes, softening his hard visage, but he turned back to Treize quickly and the expression was intensified.

" Of course." Treize answered. The pilot was unimpressed with the answer. After pausing for a count of five seconds, the young man snorted in disgust.

"Why have I been removed from command? The invasion AO2O6 was formatted with Epyon acting as a prime operative- I formulated the entire stratagem- It's my right to pilot Epyon in battle. . ."

"I'd rather not discuss this with you at the moment. . ." Treize answered. But it wasn't good enough for the pilot. Quatre was taken aback by his pilot's candor.

"This is the only moment to discuss this, Treize." The boy's jaw set firmly. Treize put a hand to his temple.

"Nanashi, I personally removed you from your command. It was an executive decision based on the test data we took during your last physical. . ."

_'N. . Nanashi? Is that his name? Strange. . .but beautiful. Nanashi. . .I wonder what it means?'_

"You need a break. Your body is falling apart. . ." Treize stated simply.

"Y. . .you? You're punishing me for. . ."

"Just until we get the mind link up system working- Doktor S. is coming tomorrow with Marimeia, he's going to run some tests. . ."

"Marimeia. . ." Nanashi fell back two steps. "That means Dekim is coming. . ." He whispered.

"Dekim. . .Barton? But he's not scheduled to visit L4 until next week." Quatre murmured, a little lost in the conversation. Treize turned his attention from the distraught pilot to the confused space king.

"He just called in to say that he was going to stop by for the morning- he's transporting my daughter and mecha engineers over from L3. Don't concern yourself too much, Quatre. . ."

"I have to go tomorrow morning." Nanashi exclaimed coldly, staring at the ground. 

_'He's upset- I can feel it. He's hiding behind his hair. . .how convenient.'_

"Your excellency, I humbly request that my civilian-status be revoked until we have procured the cooperation of the A0206 colony. . ."

"Denied." Treize interrupted. "You are not to enter the mecha hold until you've been reinstated, and you are to report to Dr. Irea Winner tomorrow morning- she has your test results and has some issues she needs to discuss with you. After your appointment, you will meet with Doktor S. who will be conducting some experimentation with the zero system. You will not set foot in the Epyon mobile suit until we have your brain wave readings back from the lab. Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant?" 

Treize spoke leisurely but firmly- his tone of voice obviously upset the already strung-out soldier. The boy's face was pale.

"Nanashi?"

The pilot didn't respond- the look on his face frightened Quatre and upset him.

_'He doesn't look it, but he's so scared. . .. What is he afraid of?'_

"Lady Une?"

"Yes your excellency."

"Will you please contact Colonel Zechs and relay Nanashi's strategy. Talk to Otto and make sure that the zero system is rendered inactive in the Tall Geese."

"Certainly. Your excellency, Master Quatre." She gave a curt nod toward each gentleman, shook her head in Nanashi's general direction, and left quickly. Upon her exit, Treize put a hand on Quatre's shoulder.

"If you'll give me a moment, I should like to walk with you in the garden again."

"C. . .Certainly. I'll just sit there- on the stone bench- and wait."

"I won't be long." Treize responded, and turned back to the handsome young pilot, who stood on the hill, looking down at the ground. Quatre sat and watched. He was out of earshot- he wasn't sure if he wanted to hear any of it anyway. Nanashi's voice had upset him- the things he said. . .were cold and emotionless. Mechanical. So Quatre contented himself to gaze at Nanashi's proud profile, black against the low sun. Treize strode up the hill and took the boy by the shoulders.

_'Treize will calm his fear- he must feel it. Something is not right. He's too upset. . .How does he not show it on his face?'_

Atop the hill, Nanashi pulled away from Treize to hug himself and stare down at the grassy carpet.. His body language upset Quatre- there was an obviously uncharacteristic skittishness and awkwardness and Quatre could feel that it upset Treize as well.

Treize reached out his hand and caught the boy around the waist. The duke used the second hand to cup the strong, angular face gently, speaking close to the pilot's face, never breaking eye contact. Quatre suddenly shivered- a sick feeling pooled and settled at the bottom of his stomach. He was uneasy, though he wasn't sure exactly why.

Treize spoke for a few minutes- interrupted twice by Nanashi's distraught protestations. The hand cradling Nanashi's cheek slipped down to his chin and stroked it between thumb and index finger. Quatre's breath caught in his throat.

_'W . . .What is going on? W. . .what is he doing?'_

He involuntarily shuddered. 

_'N. . no. no.'_

His blue eyes fell to Treize's hand, nestled protectively in the small of Nanashi's back. Treize used the position to bring the boy closer, so that they were almost nose to nose.

_'n. .no.'_

The hand at Nanashi's chin moved up the pilot's face to stroke his shining hair. Quatre began to shake his head unconsciously.

_'n. . never. . .can't. . .'_

Treize's hand caressed the honey brown hair and finally settled on the back of the boy's head. Quatre gasped repeatedly as his fantasies, hopes, dreams and deepest wishes were all shot to hell.

_'NO. God , no, STOP!'_

The duke's lips fell upon his subordinate's and they kissed deeply. At first, Nanashi was hesitant, but quickly melted into the tender embrace, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck. 

Quatre cried out softly and fell to his knees.

He watched helplessly, desperately clawing at the cobblestone ground. The pain was suddenly overwhelming. His empathy was attacking him again.

His broken heart was his own worst enemy.

_ 'Treize. . . my. . .friend. . .NO.'_

Wild with bewilderment, he stumbled backward and fell over the garden hedge. Shaking from head to toe, he crawled into the deep shrubbery and hugged his legs.

'_He.__ . .Nanashi. . .belongs to. . .no. . .I can't belie. . .Treize. . .'_

"Oh god, Treize." Quatre whispered through panicked breaths. "You. . .you have. . .the only thing I've ever wanted. . .thrush. . .Nanashi. . ." Quatre choked down a gob of depression.

Treize. . .

His excellency.

_'My friend. . .'_

And his lovely Nanashi- his 'boy'.

His. . .boy.

Treize's.

Treize's. . .acquisition?

Protégé?

. . .whore?

Quatre hung his head in wanton shame and when Treize returned to 'collect him' he kept silent and invisible.


	5. IV

**_IV. Duet._**

**_Poco a poco_**

_Poco a poco_

**_L_**_ittle by little I'll win your trust_

_and bit by bit I'll have your affection_

_day by day, I'll sit and rust_

_Oh, cast your love in my direction!_

_Little by little I'll tweak your heart_

_And bit by bit I'll pique your interest_

_Day by day, part by impart_

_I'll show you who can love you best._

_Part by part I'll love your form_

_Tit for tat, where the willow weeps_

_Inch by inch, 'til love's furied storm_

_Soaks through, and under our skin seeps._

_Little by little I'll slay your wyrms_

_And bit by bit you'll reveal your heat_

_Day by day, I'll sit and squirm_

_Until, poco a poco, my life's complete._

_                                                -Q.R.W._

**_  L_**_ittle by little I'll war with my demons_

_  And bit by bit I'll estrange those about me_

_  Day by day, I am even more shunned,_

_  Never alive and never replete._

_  Little by little my body is dying_

_  And bit by bit my mind wastes away_

_  Day by day, I but cause war and sing_

_  Never aware of what to say._

_  Part by part I slowly expire_

_  Tattered and sore, under old man Tit __Willow___

_  Inch by Inch, my depression grows higher_

_  Until I'm a husk- both fathomless and shallow._

_  Little by little I'll lay myself down_

_  And bit by bit I'll suppress all my pain_

_  Day by day, I'll hide and frown_

_  Until, poco a poco, I'm able to live again_

_                                                -N. _

_Poco a Poco_

            Little by little he made his way up the stairs to his cold and lonely room. He curled up in his bed, deathly quiet,  and gently sank his head into his softest pillow. Not one tear fell down his ivory cheek, nor did anything resembling a sob wrack his body. The covers came up as he performed a self-tuck, and he closed his eyes to greet the darkness.

            Instead, he was bombarded.

            _'You left Treize there and ran like a coward ran like a spoiled child to your makeshift mommy you're so weak no wonder Nanashi wants to be in Treize's arms they're strong and he's virile not like you you're anemic and childish with leaking tear ducts and a perpetually limp penis why would something like Nanashi want you when he could have the most powerful man in the universe at his disposal he's too strong for you he'd never let you have him too beautiful for a pale skinny whelp like you you are a coward couldn't even confront them couldn't even meet Treize's eyes after all he's done for you he's probably the only one in the universe who knows how it feels to be empathic and you're dashing your chances of finding out what it's like to have someone understand you he's a wonderful person I can't believe the things he said to you no one else will ever say those beautiful things to you no one will ever love you you love everyone but no one wants you you could never control Nanashi he's too wild and smart for you you're so stupid why would something like him want to touch your skinny weak body and why would he want to listen to your useless chatter you sound just like your sisters all of the things you say are just shadows of the stupidest things they say you are stupid and belong to Romefellar and  because of it you are going to let down Treize and you are going to have to watch him kiss and make love to Nanashi because he'll never leave if he were to leave he would take Nanashi with him and then you'd never get to see him or hear him again in love how can you believe that you're in love you've seen him three times and spoken to him once it's lust you just want what Treize has you want to be Treize but you will never be like Treize you just don't make the cut you are inferior and will never have the power to take Nanashi from him. You are so weak. . .'_

            "I. . .do love him." Quatre whispered to his demons. It was the only thing he was sure of, though he wasn't sure of why. Nanashi was cold and uninterested, but he affected Quatre as no on had ever influenced him. His heart felt warmed and comforted by Nanashi's stillness and tranquility, and Quatre felt the boy's pain and misery when the cold mask was removed. Quatre was also deeply changed after witnessing the boy's unearthly jade eye(s)- the power and intensity in it unleashed a wave of conflicting emotions and sensations. In those eyes, Nanashi held the power to bring the universe to his feet, with Quatre leading the throng. Nanashi's mysticism, intellect, sensitivity and aching beauty could easily start a war.

            _'He's my Helen of __Troy__. . . the face that'll launch a thousand mobile suits'_

            Quatre's eyes widened.

            _'. . .call me Paris.'_

            He shook his head in frustration and buried his nose in his pillow.

            _'Steal Nanashi from Treize and declare war on Romefellar? You're so daft, Quatre Raberba Winner. I bet you can't even lift him to throw over your shoulder as spoils of war. .. God, where's Aphrodite when you need her? But. . .Nanashi. . .'Quatre moaned softly, his imagination overloading as he pictured hoisting the stunning pilot over his shoulder while standing over Treize's stabbed and dying form. Shivering, he erased the fantasy._

            _'Don't be a pervert, Quatre. Treize is your friend, so you should at least spare his life when you come to claim Nanashi for your own. . ."claim _Nan___. . ." Quatre, stop it! What is wrong with me? He's a person, not some property acquisition! He's driving me mad! I can't stop thinking about those eyes! Treize, I'm such an awful friend!' Quatre began to bang his head on the mattress. _'But I've never wanted anything or anyone! How is it fair when I've given so much love to the universe but none of it is returned! I didn't even get a mother, and now I don't have a father or my lover. My lover?!?! Right, Quatre. .. no, all I have are twenty nine sisters who think of me as a glorified Ken doll. That's it. . .and. . .Treize. I have Treize. . .so I can't hurt him. . .I hate myself. ..' __

            The call of the hermit thrush interrupted his self-abuse. Huffing, Quatre jumped to his feet and strode angrily to the window.

            "Go away you. . .you. .. you  crow in thrush skin!" He waved his arms madly, wailing at the darkening landscape. "You black-faced molter, pea-brained harpy! Your poison song has no place  on these currents- go caw and crow to another ear!" Quatre let loose a primal (albeit slightly impotent) wail of frustration. He waited, daring the thrush to sing again. Instead, he got a low whistle.

            ". . .That was. . .dramatic."

            A thoroughly guilty, delicious shiver ran down his back and he closed his eyes. With moistened lips he addressed the thrush.

            "I. . .didn't know it was you. I'm sorry for yelling at you. . ."

            "Don't apologize- I **am** but a crow in thrush skin." Nanashi murmured with a secret smile that massaged Quatre's bruised heart. The young pilot cocked his head to the side. "Do you usually dismiss your unwanted guests with such poetic vigor, Master Winner?" 

            Quatre blushed and shook his head.

            "N. . no, I. . .was just. . .venting."

            "You turn into Goethe when you vent."

            The intention of Quatre's blush  switched from embarrassment to delight.

            "Thank you, Nanashi."

            The appellation rolled off his tongue like sacred poetry- like practiced poetry. Quatre caressed it with his lips and gums, unconsciously drawing out the nasal consonants. The owner of said name  pursed his lips grimly- he seemed to bite his tongue. But instead, he retorted with a pleasant:

            "I'm honored to be the recipient of those finely-tuned words, Master Winner."

            "Quatre."

            "I know your name, Master Winner." Nanashi's eyes narrowed while a  eyebrow arched seductively.  Quatre giggled and lowered his face.

            _'A. .are we flirting? Is this flirting? I. . .have no clue! But I feel giddy!'_

            "You can call me Quatre, Nanashi." He laughed.

            "Then you can call me No-name, Quatre." Nanashi lifted his head and quirked the other eyebrow. Quatre giggled again, as he was incapable of suppressing his delight.

            "All right, I'll call you nothing. I'll just whistle for you." He demonstrated with a feeble attempt at the thrush's call. Nanashi bit back a smirk.

            "Speaking of crows in thrush skin. . ."

            "Hey!" Quatre grumped and crossed his arms over his chest. Out of nowhere a powerful and wondrous laugh permeated the air and Quatre was dazzled to discover that its resonating orifice was the soft-spoken knight. 

            Quatre noticed, at that moment, that all his demons had been quieted.

            "I'm glad you find my ineptitude amusing." The young heir sniffed and spoke with fabricated snootiness. Nanashi bit his lip and lowered his head.

            "Actually, it was your pout- it was rather cartoonish. . ."

            Quatre graced him with another, even more pronounced, sulk, which brought a substantial smirk to the handsome face. They rested together in comfortable silence and Quatre found himself admiring the other boy's voice and wit and wondering if Nanashi really thought him a good poet.

            "Are you well, Quatre?" Nanashi asked in all seriousness. Quatre was startled by the question.

            "Am I. . .of course I am. Why?"

            Nanashi furrowed his brow.

            "You did not meet his excellency for your evening walk. He was concerned for your health. . ."

            _'So that's why he's here.' Quatre's entire mood darkened. _'Treize sent him to find me. Dammit. . .' _He thought of something quickly._

            "I'm fine, Nanashi. One of my sisters came to find me- she was having a bit of a crisis- so I had to leave quickly. I hope Treize didn't wait long- I'll have to apologize tomorrow. . ."

            "Don't worry yourself about it- you have a great deal of responsibility. Treize is treating this like a holiday instead of the invasion it is."

            "I suppose he'd rather be pleasant with this. . ." Quatre responded, a little unsure of what he meant.

            "He definitely has the system down pat." Nanashi murmured ironically. "But let's not discuss any of that- I'm sure he's pumped you as full of Romefellar propaganda as you can possibly handle." Kicking at the white brick of the wall, Nanashi pointed up. "Is it all right for me to come up? All of this neck-craning is going to affect my performance tests tomorrow."

            _'Come up? To my bedroom? No no no no no no no. . .'_

            "Of course. Just open that door to your right and come up the stairs and. . .the heck?!?"

            One hand dug into a stone groove, then another.  With astounding acrobatic agility, Nanashi began to scale the wall with flooring ease. Quatre gulped and looked around his room. 

            His room. . .

            "Crap! This place is disaster."

            The multitudes of clothing still lay in mountains all across the floor from the morning freak-out. The bed was unmade, the floor was muddy and Quatre was about ready to set fire to his mildew-covered bathroom.

            _'Don't I have servants?!? Shoot shoot shoot.'_

            So, as Nanashi climbed the four stories to Quatre's bedroom window, the little Space King scurried about like a human broom, sweeping his clothing into his closet and under his bed.  His sheets got stuffed under his large pillows and the thick duvet was thrown haphazardly over the entire thing. There was virtually nothing he could do about his bathroom, save wipe the toothpaste off the faucet and shut the door, hoping the pilot had some sort of contraption installed in his space suit to take care of his bodily functions. Then, with a sigh, he flounced on the bed and wiped the sweat from his brow.

            "You didn't have to clean up for me, Quatre- I'm a soldier. I live in filth, remember? Honestly, it's almost too clean. . ."

            Flicking on an extra light,  Quatre shrugged.

            "It was. . .pretty messy, actually."

            "Then I probably would've felt more at home." Nanashi quipped and gently caressed the bed spread. "I. . .I've never seen anything so white. . ." The pilot stared at the snow-colored duvet in fascination. Quatre pinched himself to bring his mind back out of the gutter.

            "Irea says white's easy to wash- just throw it in the washer with a half-cup of bleach. I always got really dirty when I was little, so that was an issue." Quatre spoke nostalgically.

            "I just can't see you as the mud-covered, prodigal son, Quatre." Nanashi chuckled and sat on the ornate rug covering the hardwood floor, facing Quatre on the bed. 

            "Well, I was!" Quatre grinned and sat Indian-style on the fluffy bed. He glanced down at his rubber-clad companion and bit his lip.

            "Say, is that all they give you to wear, or is air-tight rubber actually comfortable?" 

            A tiny, self-deprecating smile graced Nanashi's smooth face.

            "I have other clothes- I seem to get them in truckloads- but I'd rather wear this. Just in case something comes up and. . ."

            "You have to go back into outer space, right?" Quatre finished. Nanashi nodded wistfully. "Do you. . .do you think you'll get to go to A0206 tomorrow?" Quatre knew what answer he wanted.

            "Do you think your sister's professional integrity can be bought and sold?"

            "No, of course not!" Quatre answered automatically. Nanashi snorted.

            "Then, no- I won't be. She decides if I go or not, and once she sees my test results she'll forbid me from touching Epyon again."

            "Why? Were your test results bad?" Quatre asked, suddenly worried. Nanashi shrugged.

            "I'm not sure- bad enough for Treize to call Zechs over from L2. I suppose I have been working hard, but I still don't agree with their decision."

            "You were pretty vehement." Quatre acknowledged. Nanashi nodded solemnly.

            "The more passionate I am, the more inclined Treize is to give in. But. . .he must've found something in the test data to deny me that request."

            Quatre swallowed hard at Nanashi's choice of words and put on a brave face.

            "Well. . .at least you get a vacation!" Quatre answered brightly. "It's a beautiful time of the cycle on L4- I can show you around if you'd like. I just got my license and I've been dying to take my dad's sports car out of the hold and. . ."

            "I'd like that- thank you Quatre."

            Quatre beamed and chewed on his lip.

            "Perhaps, if I'm permitted, I'll show you my mobile suit."

            "Really?" Quatre gushed (not meaning to, of course.). "That would be wonderful! I mean, I've seen some before- I was kidnapped in space once and met these pilots who had mobile suits and they let me touch them- the suits, of course- but we don't generally have mobile suits on L4 because we're a pacifist nation. I'd love to see yours though- what kind is it?"

            "It's. . .um. . .an Epyon." Nanashi rubbed his arm. A faint blush appeared on his cheeks and nose, mostly triggered by Quatre's enthusiasm. "It's an original model- there are only two of its kind in the universe. The prototype is the Tallgeese model- Colonel Zechs Merquise is the pilot-, which was the original mecha designed for the alliance. However, after recent discoveries, we've concluded that the model is far superior to the modern mobile suits, thus we  fashioned the Epyon Mobile suit from the remains of another, similar suit."

            "What happened to that suit? If the model is so good, why didn't you just re-build the Epyon and keep the two original suits?" Quatre asked innocently. But Nanashi was impressed.

            "Why indeed. . ." He mused and shook his head. "I. . .destroyed the first model before the mechanics on L3 could complete it."

            "You destroyed it? Why?"

            "Because I hated it." Nanashi stood and stretched. " I flew into outer space and self-detonated." His voice was completely devoid of sentiment. Quatre gaped.

            "Y. .. you 'self-detonated'? What does that mean?"

            "It means I blew myself up, of course." He answered matter of factly. "What do you think it means?"

            "Well. . .I. . .shoot." Quatre ran a hand through his wild bangs. "I don't know- why did do that?"

            Nanashi didn't answer the question. Instead, he focused his attention on the intricate detailing on Quatre's bed posts and skirted the issue. "Epyon is a far more superior model, anyway. Treize utilized the initial design of the Heavy-arms and combined it with features that  incorporated the Romefellar ideals and suited my physicality. He improved the speed and Howard and Doktor S. invented a new Gundanium alloy that allowed for more flexibility. And, of course, Treize had the emphasis shifted from distance to close combat. I had to adapt to that, since I'd used the old alliance suits that  focused on long range fire power. Treize named it- pretentious fop- but I can deal with the name if I'm allowed to pilot it in combat."

            _'Wow. .. that was really thorough. I guess I'll have to see this Epyon.'_

            "But you, Quatre- what do you do? I realize that you're now the leader of colony and soon to be Romefellar's new darling," Nanashi sneered at this. "But what do you love? What makes you happy?"

            _'You.'_

            "I. . .No one's really asked me that." Quatre replied, rubbing his still bandaged hand. "I. . .hm. . .I suppose I love music best." He smiled shyly. "I've always loved music- listening to it, playing, composing. . .I think that's what makes me happiest."

            "What do you play?" Nanashi asked softly, sitting beside Quatre on the edge of the bed. He paused for a moment, and bounced lightly, then hid behind his hair. "I apologize. Your bed's really soft. What instruments do you play?"

            "Oh, I play almost everything!" Quatre exclaimed. "But I mostly play the piano and the violin- they're my favorites. I try to practice every day but. . ." Quatre trailed off and looked at his hand. Nanashi caught the glance and frowned.

            "Your hand. . .is it healing well?"

            "Not enough to play, I'm afraid." Quatre answered sadly. "But it doesn't matter- the conservatory was ruined during the siege." He hung his head. "The piano was shot to hell. . ."

            "Quatre. . .I'll get a new piano for you." Nanashi whispered and cautiously reached out to rub Quatre's shoulder.  A sudden shock ripped through their forms. They stared into each other's eyes, acutely aware of something neither of them understood.

            _'I. . .want to kiss you.'_

            Treize didn't exist in this moment. Pain didn't exist in this moment, nor did Nanashi's illness or Quatre's suffering. It was just chemistry at an organic level.

            Then it was gone.

            "Your father's memorial service is tomorrow evening, is it not?" Nanashi pulled his hand away and stroked the cool material of the duvet. Quatre  nodded, but said nothing, mourning the lost moment. The pilot apparently sensed Quatre's new emotion, for he rose slowly and coughed.

            "I. . .should probably leave you. It's getting late. . ."

            "No!" Quatre jumped up and grabbed the boy's hands. Nanashi stared at him in shock. Quatre panted. "I. . .I. . ."

            _'You stupid idiot! What are you going to do now?'_

            "Please don't go, not yet. I. . .get so lonely." _'You sound pathetic!' _"Nanashi, I. . .don't really have any friends- just my sisters and they're pretty annoying." The pilot hid his face subtly. "Just, stay a little longer, than you can take off. You're not bothering me- I'm sorry our conversation got stilted and sad- It's just been really hard around here with everything that's going on. Please, keep me company a little longer?"

            The moment that passed seemed infinitely long, but it was all made better with Nanashi's  mind-blowing secret smile.

            "Of course."

            Grinning, Quatre ran to his cupboard, flung open the  doors.

            "Would you like to listen to some music?" Quatre asked his guest. Nanashi nodded politely. Rummaging through his disks, Quatre pulled out a simple, labeless diskette and inserted into his digital player. Pressing play, he shrugged and grinned.

            "I'm not sure what you like, so I figured this was safe."

            "What is it?"

            "I'm not sure." Quatre laughed and sat beside his friend on the cool bed.  The tinny sound of the piano trickled into the room, then burst into an almost erotic passionata as the bass intensified and the melody soared.

            "It's. . .beautiful." Nanashi listened attentively, virtually spellbound. The pilot brought his legs up under him and sat hunched over, ensnared by the traveling arpeggios and passionate melody. Quatre nodded wordlessly and leaned back against his headboard. The position gave him a clear view of the pilot, utterly seduced in a-minor. Quatre became breathless as Nanashi did- the sealed chest rose and fell quickly with the throbbing pulse of the piece.  The young King's royal-blue eyes drooped heavily with desire as he witnessed the sensuous reaction in the sensitive pilot.

            _'So beautiful. ..you have no idea. . .'              _

            The music picked up, turned major and chaotic, which, in turn, affected Nanashi. His long-fingered hand grasped the ornate bed post, as if he were in danger of being swept away. The long bangs grazed the oak post when Nanashi chose to lean his dreaming head against the fine grain. He finally closed his eyes and gave in.

            He was utterly entranced which, in turn, claimed Quatre as a lover and a fool.

            The song ended gently, then drifted into another lovely, though less intense piece. Shaking his head, Nanashi rose as if from a dream, and looked guiltily at Quatre.

            "I. . .enjoyed that."

            "I hadn't noticed." Quatre  answered in all seriousness, then burst out giggling. Nanashi blushed a brilliant red.

            "I play the piano a bit. . ." Nanashi justified. "Treize arranged for a good teacher when we were on Earth, so I learned quite a bit. I'm not very good at reading music- I'd rather play by ear. That was how I learned the flute during my childhood. I found an old, slightly tarnished one in the forest behind some aristocrat's house when I was six, so I brought it back to the camp and cleaned it up- shone it up with silver polish- and taught myself to play. I. . had nothing else, so it was my favorite thing in the world. After completing a mission, I would play for the soldiers in my brigade and I'd usually get a special treat- a new gun on my mobile suit, or sometimes candy. I. . .sold my flute when I was ten so I could afford to catch a transport ship to L3. Two years ago, when Treize took me in, he gave me his mother's flute. Supposedly she had lulled him to sleep with it when he was an infant. So I played it for him- it was the least I could do. . ." He trailed off and leaned back on his elbows. Quatre was perplexed, though.

            "'Took you in'? What do you mean?"

            Nanashi glanced over and frowned.

            "He took me in as his ward. I'm an orphan, Quatre."

            "An orphan." Quatre gasped. "No. That's so sad. . .Nanashi." The pilot shrugged.

            " I grew up on earth and was raised by a mercenary group until I was ten."He contineud, unfazed. "Then my corps was annihilated and I decided that space was the answer. After traveling to L3 and working with a sweeper group, I worked for the Barton foundation as an assistant mechanical engineer. That's where I met Treize, two years ago, when he arrested Trowa Barton for espionage and terrorism. After that, I stayed on with him and became an Oz soldier."

            "Trowa Barton. . ." Quatre whispered. "Trowa Barton was assassinated two years ago. . ."

            "Yes." Nanashi lowered his head.

            " It was something to do with the illegal construction of mobile suits. . .something about an invasion. . ."

            "It's common knowledge in Romefellar, Quatre, so you're allowed to know. The Barton Foundation, under Trowa's command, had started to fashion a league of powerful mechas which were going to be used to take over Earth. This siege was to be called "Project Meteor" and would render Earth powerless. However, Treize discovered Trowa's plan when he was visiting his daughter, who is also Dekim Barton's grand-daughter, Trowa's niece. But, there was no way Romefellar could allow Trowa to remain alive."

            "Trowa was killed by Oz. . ." Quatre was shaking. He remembered the day Trowa had died- the public had blamed terrorists and had mourned for the heir. Quatre's father had sent him away to be protected. During that same time, his beloved Instructor had been arrested and taken to earth. It had been a hellish time for the colonies.  "So. . .Treize killed a member of his family?" His voice was quiet and sad.  Nanashi shook his head.

            "No. I did."

            Quatre gasped.

            "N. .na. . ."

            "And I would do it again." Nanashi's voice was robotic. Quatre shook his head madly.

            "I c. .can't believe that you would. . ."

            "Kill a murderer? A child molester? A fascist madman?" Nanashi offered simply. Quatre wrung his hands miserably.

            "Kill anyone. Cold blood."

            "My death count is almost a thousand, Quatre. You're sitting in bed with a killer."

            Quatre was shocked to hear the words. Hadn't it been only moments earlier when Nanashi had been spellbound by the raw and glorious modality of the piano piece? Witty Nanashi, who had compared Quatre to Goethe, who could mimic the song of the thrush- who had the most beautiful, clandestine smile.

            Quatre smiled sadly. He pushed the misery aside.

            "You're a walking paradox- a web of complexities. I. . .don't think I'll ever be able to figure you out."

            "Good. I don't want anyone to delve that deep. I don't want to scare you too badly, Master Winner." Nanashi murmured, suddenly at ease. Quatre was shaken, but he was hardly afraid of Nanashi.

            He was too in love to worry about such silliness as death.

            "Quatre, I don't know how you can possibly stay awake sitting on this thing." The pilot laughed. "It's like lying in clouds. The duvet even looks like a cloud."

            "Are you falling asleep, Nanashi?" Quatre teased. The music in the background twinkled in the instrument's upper register. 

            "No, of course not. . ."To punctuate his point, Nanashi yawned and covered his hand like a little darling. Quatre giggled, Nanashi glowered. "I'm not tired. I was just making an observation. . ."

            "You should try laying down on it." Quatre beamed and snuggled into his pillows. "I bet you'd fall asleep in a second! No more thoughts of Epyon or war or anything- you'd be dreaming of puffy white sheep and clouds shaped like fauns."

            "Is that what you dream of?" Nanashi asked, eyebrow arched. Quatre glanced at him haughtily.

            "It was simply a random example." He uttered with disdain and a wave of his hand.

            "Well then. . ." Shimmying over to the far side, Nanashi stretched out his body alongside Quatre's.

            Choking down his exuberance and trying desperately to calm his rapid pulse, Quatre observed Nanashi who was presently burying his cheek into Quatre's pillow.

            _'It would be so easy to put my arm around him and kiss him. His past be damned- he's a miracle.'_

            "Mmm. . .Quatre," Nanashi mumbled into the pillow. The husky tone caught the Space King off guard and Quatre found himself growing a little uncomfortable in the groin region. "I've never felt like this. . .And to think I've been sleeping on the floor for the last. . .well, most of my life. I don't think I'll ever be able to go back to concrete or dirt."__

_            'You can sleep in my bed whenever you want. . .'_

            "Don't get too comfortable-" Quatre warned. "You fall asleep in this and I have a feeling you'll be lost to the world. It'll make you soft like me."

            "Mmm. . .I wouldn't mind that." 

            Quatre mustered up the courage and poked the pilot in the side.

            "You can't sleep in that space suit. . . "

            "Watch me. . ."

            "Nanashi!"

            "Hmm. . ."

            Quatre giggled and pulled on the boy's arm. "Tell you what- since you're getting me a piano, the least I can do is get you a bed. Maybe it'll make you feel better- a good bed is critical for good health, y'know. Of course, if you had a good bed, you'd get lazy like me and sleep in 'til noon, and then Oz would lose their best pilot. So. . .well, I guess it's your decision, Nanashi. . .Nanashi? H. .hey!"

            Quatre rolled the deathly quiet soldier onto his back and then swore.

            _'He's sound asleep!'_

            The measured breath and placid demeanor were indications that yes, Nanashi was asleep. Quatre had to laugh, despite himself.

            _'I can't just let him stay here all night! He'll be angry with me! Well. . at least I won the bet. He must be so exhausted- Treize is probably right in revoking his pilot status. . .Treize. . .Treize  is probably waiting for him to return. . .waiting to touch him and. . .stop, don't think about that. . .he's here- Nanashi is here. He's happy- he's peaceful and healthy. He's laying in kissing reach .' Quatre touched the boy's face with a hesitant finger. The young pilot mumbled incoherently, but remained asleep.  Reaching up to touch the tip of Nanashi's bangs, Quatre watched the boy sleep_. 'He's perfect. Treize can wait all night. Nanashi is mine tonight. There's no harm in that. Just for tonight he can be mine. . .'__

            Quatre turned the lights off and threw a cover over Nanashi's rubber-clad form. Then, curling up on the other side of the bed, Quatre  listened to the gentle strains of lulling music- the music that had seduced Nanashi for him. He then fantasized about Nanashi- replayed their evening together in his mind and let his wild and hormonal imagination run rampant. He was tempted to unzip the pilot's space suit- it looked really suffocating. Plus, it would give the blond-haired boy a chance to see more of that lovely caramel skin. Quatre imagined divesting Nanashi a hundred times until he finally fell asleep- his angelic face still plastered in a wicked grin.


	6. V

                     **_The Heart Asks Pleasure First_**

_Both Prose and Poetry are copyright © B.E. Sheurmann._

**_Warning: Section contains mild  citrus. _**

**_Scena V._****__**

_Divisi, tremolando,  Soave _

Trio.                       duet               

**_Divisi_**

_Since when are smiles like precious urns_

_To store away in  air-tight rooms?_

_Do they shatter when the company's cold_

_To be swept away by tidy brooms?_

_Since when are laughs like magic spells_

_To practice only in the dead of night?_

_Do they go against the grain of law_

_Or are they solely for true love's delight?_

_Since when are kisses like rusted coins_

_To pass about to whomever is willing?_

_Is the inside of your mouth less hallow_

_Than what the outside vibrations bring?_

                                    -Q.R.W.

**Tremolando**

_Dainty child with eyes of blue_

_What is this you have with you?_

_Is it a soldier, brave and strong,_

_Or an abortion quite gone wrong?___

_Darling boy with hair of gold,_

_He's not as charming to behold!_

_His face is ice and eyes are gaunt_

_ Is he really worthy to flaunt?_

_What use is he without his gifts,_

_Crying out while the world shifts?_

_You pity him, as children do,_

_He'll hate you for it, though it's true._

                                                _-A & M._

_Laconism_

_Extremism_

_Pessimism_

_Heroism_

_Terrorism_

_Pacifism_

_Militarism_

_Cavalierism_

_Altruism_

_You are dying from too many 'isms'._

_                                    -__I.__ W._

**_Soave_**

_Oh, come here! Come land on my petals!_

_They are soft and beaded with nectar._

_Feast on my gifts, and bear them off with you_

_When you journey to lands afar.___

_Transport me with you when you traverse the land!_

_Carry but a bit of pollen dust on your sunset wings._

_I'll remember you forever, for you were the first_

_And only orange butterfly to love me this spring.___

_                                                            -Q.R.W._

_There has never been another, nor will there ever be_

_A daffodil so beautiful to attract this heart of me.___

_Though I may travel far to see the sights of earth_

_Only my little daffodil inspires in me such mirth._

_And if I die because I'm parched, and cannot bear to sip_

_It is because I cannot bear to kiss another lip._

_-N._

**_Scena V._**

            _"Quatre?"_

_            "Hmmm? Oh, Nanashi- it's __three thirty__ in the morning. Go back to sleep."_

_            "But I can't." He sat up, leaning against the headboard._

_            "What's wrong?"_

_            "I'm so uncomfortable." Nanashi whispered softly._

_            "Oh, I'm so sorry! I told you this bed was comfortable! I guess different people like different mattresses. . ."_

_            "It's not that, Quatre." The pilot purred, climbing out of the bed. His every movement oozed with sex. "It's the suit- just like you told me. It's smothering me." He ran a hand through his hair then peered at Quatre through lowered eyelids." Would it. . .bother you terribly if I. . .removed it?"_

_            "R. ..r. . r. . ."_

_            "Removed it. Yes." Nanashi repeated._

_            "N. . no! Of course not! Do whatever makes you feel comfortable!"_

_            "Thank you." His little pink tongue flicked along his lips, making them wet and shiny in the moonlight. The pilot felt for the hidden zipper at his neck then slowly pulled it down. So slowly. . ._

_            "Oh!"_

_            "Quatre," He drew the name out like toffee. He tugged the zipper down another inch, which presented a patch of dewy, bronzed skin. Quatre bit his lip to keep from gasping._

_            He pulled the zipper down past his throat. All of a sudden, he stopped with a small jerk. Nanashi tugged at the zipper a bit, staring at it intently. Then the pilot looked up at Quatre through his thick eyelashes._

_            "It's caught."_

_            "Oh."_

_            "Could you help me?"_

_            Quatre jumped from the bed, nearly bumping into the soldier. He  placed his hand over Nanashi's and they both tugged simultaneously. The zipper came free with a jerk, and slid all the way down to the pilot's navel. Nanashi gasped at the cold air that now caressed his skin._

_            "It's so hot. I'm sweating. . ."_

_            "Let's get it off. . ."_

_            "Help me Quatre. Pull the zipper." Never taking his eyes from Nanashi's, Quatre pulled the zipper down past the boy's stomach to the top of his groin._

_            "It. . ." Nanashi gasped. "Goes between my legs. You have to pull it all the way down."   Quatre's eyes momentarily rolled back in his head. He grasped the zipper and pushed it open all the way to the pilot's buttocks. "Help me get it off." Each tight section was pulled off to reveal a body shimmering with sweat. Quatre freed him of the upper section quickly, but paused before continuing. "Thank you." Nanashi murmured. "I'll do the rest. Go back and lay down."_

_            Quatre sat on the bed and watched. Nanashi grasped the material that had gathered at his waist and slowly pushed it down his hips, then his thighs and all the way to his feet. The audience gasped._

_            Nanashi was now before him, buck naked save for a tiny red g-string with 'Quatre' stitched in gold across the front. Stepping out of the suit, the soldier crawled back into bed, laying on his side facing Quatre._

_            "Nanashi, that's not your name." Quatre pointed, shyly._

_            "No. . .it's my master's name. The one who owns me."_

_            ". . .That's. . .my name."_

_            "Mmm.. ..really?" Quatre's gorgeous crush stretched out, presenting his body to his 'master'. "Then. . .I guess I belong to you." He beckoned Quatre with his eyes. Quatre crawled atop Nanashi and rubbed his hands over his lover's silky chest._

_            "Oh Quatre! I've wanted you for sooooo long!"_

_            They kissed fiercely- an open mouthed kiss with an excessive amount of tongue. Their hands were groping machines that grabbed at whatever they could get a hold of. Quatre moaned in Nanashi's mouth as a hand found his erection and rubbed it fondly._

_            "Nanashi! Oh Nanashi! I love you! I love you so! Nanashi."_

            Quatre awoke with a start. Blinking, he realized that it was morning and that no- he wasn't in the throngs of ecstasy with his beautiful Nanashi. 

            It was same old morning. He groaned.

            _'A dream!__ What cruel fate!'_

Well, at least his bed was comfortable.

            Quatre snuggled deeper, revelling in the comforts of his down duvet.  Yes yes-he knew the sun was up- he saw the light and could feel the rays on his cheek- but he didn't give a lick!

            _'Mmm. . .so warm. . .sooooo comfy. . .'_ He went to bury his face in his pillow as was habit, but was greeted with something far harder, with a much different texture. _'Huh? What's this? It feels. . .weird. Like plastic. . or rubber or. . .'_

            He opened his eyes with a start.

            _'Oh.__ . . my. . . god. . ..'_

            He tentatively reached out to touch the foreign fabric of Nanashi's space suit, upon which his head was resting. Yes, he and the pilot were curled up rather cosily. Quatre's head had somehow come to rest on Nanashi's pectoral while his arms were wrapped around the brunette's trim waist. No wonder he'd had the dream he'd had! Quatre wasn't totally at fault- one rubber-clad arm held the heir to his dream lover's chest rather possessively. From one point of view, it was a beautiful thing- these two young men of different backgrounds come together in a secure and loving atmosphere.

            However, this point of view was rather askew- the entire situation was a complete mess!

            _'oh boy oh boy oh boy, he's gonna kill me!'_ Quatre wailed in his sleepy head_. 'I gotta. .. I gotta get out of this before he wakes up I. . .oh god, this is nice. Yes, I. . .like this. .. I really like this. . .Mm. . .he smells like apples. . .oh and rubber. . .I think I'm hungry. . .Quatre, don't be a pervert!  . . .he's so strong! Just another moment. . .'_ The space prince curled up tighter, rubbing his nose against the rubber. Nanashi's chest rose and fell gently with his breath, and Quatre enjoyed the sensation- it almost felt like bobbing in a boat. _'All right, Quatre, that's enough! Get out of there before he wakes up! He'll be mad if he finds out you were mauling him in his sleep! Let go!'_ His mental voice was a terrible prude.

            _'So wonderful. . .I could lie like this forever. . .Our arms around each other, our bodies pressed tightly together in our night clothes. I wonder what he wears?  Certainly nothing as childish as my striped pyjamas. Probably a pair of sweat pants or. . .his underwear. Or maybe nothing! Oh, imagine it! Us lying in bed as lovers, him wearing nothing but my comforter! Oh  save me!'_

            Suddenly, Quatre wasn't as comfortable with his surroundings as he'd previously thought. Wicked thoughts lead to repercussions.

            _'Damn it! I. . .'_ He blushed and glanced down at the not-so-virginal protuberance in his groin-area. _'That's what you get for being a pervert, Quatre Raberba Winner!' _He reprimanded himself. _'Well, I really do need to get out of this mess now! I'll go to the bathroom and have a shower- maybe that'll get rid of this. . .distraction. Though, something else might get rid of . .. No! Bad Quatre! Wicked! Poor Nanashi, I don't mean to think this way, I'm so sorry!'_ He shifted slightly_. 'Now, how am I supposed to. . .well, I should just crawl backwards  out of this oh-so intimate embrace and get myself. . um. . .somewhere else, I suppose. . .'_

Moving at a snail's pace, Quatre removed his arms and shimmied out from under Nanashi's. He froze upon hearing a gentle sigh burst from the pilot's mouth, but, in realizing his love was still fast asleep, the master of the house crawled underneath the covers to the foot of the bed, where he accidentally fell.

            "Crap." He clamped his own hand over his mouth and remained quiet. There was a small hitch in Nanashi's breathing, but he remained undisturbed. Gulping, Quatre tip-toed into the bathroom. Locking the door, he sat on the toilet seat, feeling very guilty.

            _'I. . .I think a cold shower would be good for me this morning. . .it's good for the pores. . .or something. . .'_

            Most sixteen year old men wouldn't have been so hesitant to relieve themselves of any sexual frustration. However, there was no way Quatre could possibly do that with the object of his affection sleeping innocently the next room! _'That's just disrespectful!'_ He affirmed, peeling off his clothes and hopping into the shower. He yelped a bit when the cold water slapped against his feverish skin, but stayed strong.

            However, so did his problem.

            _'Nanashi, why do you have to be so sexy?' _Quatre growled in his head._ 'If you weren't, I wouldn't be in so much agony! Humph! Stupid post-pubescent hormones! I should just get it over with and be done with the whole thing. . .I mean, it wouldn't take very long. . .Him, in my bed, in that  pilot's suit- that skin-tight rubber pilot's suit. Quatre! Stop! Oh. . .and all those muscles! Those rippling shoulders and firm stomach and tight butt! Oh crap. . .'_

            Quatre relieved himself as quickly as possible.

            He stepped out of the shower on shaking legs. Wrapping himself in his sky-blue robe, he quietly opened the door to check up on his sleeping friend.

            However, Nanashi was no longer asleep.

            "Well, I guess I killed two birds with one stone coming up here! I hope Quatre gets out soon- President Barton and Duke Kushrenada have already started their meeting. I think Treize wanted him there. . . And you! You were supposed to meet me this morning at eight-thirty. After glancing at your records, I got a little concerned."

            "I apologize, Dr. Winner, for my irresponsibility." Nanashi addressed Irea stiffly. They were sitting on the bed- the perfectly made bed- facing each other. Nanashi's face was entirely devoid of expression, while Irea wore her all-purpose look of concern.

            "You obviously needed the rest, so don't apologize."

            Nanashi chose to hide behind his hair.

            "I'm free at eleven- will you come by then? I'd really like to talk to you about this."

            "Of course. . ." He murmured. 

            "Bring Quatre, if he ever gets out of there. I need to ask him something."

            "Of course, Dr. Winner."

            "Call me Irea, hun."

            ". . .Irea."

            "There's a good boy!" She grinned and pinched his cheek saucily. His eyes bugged out of his head. "I'll see you later."

            She flounced out of the room, leaving a bewildered Nanashi stroking his violated cheek. Quatre couldn't help but giggle.

            "You can come out, now- she's gone."

            "Are you implying that I was avoiding her?" Quatre asked innocently, joining the pilot on the bed.

            "Not so much implying, as making an observation based on something quite blatant." Nanashi teased, eyes shining. Quatre was totally transfixed.

            "W. . .w. . .well. . .um. . .oh, don't make fun of me!" He huffed, punching the Oz soldier in the arm. Nanashi didn't even flinch.

            ". . .what was that?" The  pilot teased again.

            "It was. . ."Quatre was lost for words. "Oh, you're infuriating!" He pouted.

            "I'm kidding- I know what it. . ." Nanashi cried out as Quatre decided to push at him with his entire body. Both boys fell off the bed and landed in a tangled web of limbs. "What did you do that for?" The pilot exclaimed.

            "I wanted to show you I'm not a weakling!" Quatre pronounced. Suddenly realizing that his robe had come undone, the heir squealed. "Crap!" He wrapped it snugly around his form and scuttled across the room. Chuckling, Nanashi rose to his feet, rubbing the floor-stuff from his flanks. 

            Though he wanted to, Quatre couldn't stop himself from staring at Nanashi's hands as they moved back and forth over his hips and buns. Back and forth. Back and forth.

            _'Quatre!!!!!!'___

            "I should probably get dressed." Quatre blushed, rising as well. "If you'd like, you can shower in my bathroom. It's not very clean, but it's better than most of the ones we're using for communal showers."

            "Are you implying that I stink?" Nanashi crossed his arms over his chest. With wide eyes, Quatre shook his head furiously.

            "Oh no, no! You smell wonderful! Like apples and rubber and. . .oh. . ." He trailed off, biting his lip in horror_. 'What is wrong with me? Now he's going to know that I was smelling him! Arggggggh!'_

            "First you tell me I stink, and then you mock me." Quatre opened his mouth to speak, but closed it, suddenly remembering that he had little to no control over his babble. "On top of that, you're offering me a less-than adequate bathing facility. Frankly, I don't think we can be friends anymore."

            He said it all with a straight face and, for a moment, Quatre was suddenly paralysed with dread. Then he realized Nanashi was **still** teasing him. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed the pilot's hand and dragged him toward the bathroom.

            "Get in there! And scrub yourself good! You don't want to be dirty and stinky for your doctor's appointment- Irea'll have a fit!"

            "There must be gene in your family concerning obsessive cleanliness. I've never known anyone to shower as long as. . ."

            Growling, Quatre shut the door on him before the pilot could finish his sentence. The grumbling heir sat on the bed, waiting for the water to come on. He smiled a bit, thinking of their exchange, which spawned an even bigger smile.

            _'He was teasing me! He's IS  a tease!'_

            Quatre snickered. He fell back on his bed and kicked his feet in the air like a silly goose.

            _'Obsessive cleanliness my butt!__ He's the one who made my bed! I never make my bed- it's so impractical! I'm just going to mess it up again in another sixteen hours. Irea always makes my. ..'_ His train of thought was overshadowed by a spaceship of worry.

            _'Irea!__ Oh my god! She knows he slept here! What's she going to assume? What's she going to. . .Oh no! My sisters!'_

            Stuffing his feet into his slippers, Quatre ran down the four flights of stairs to the clinic. He scurried down the basement hall, tripping over his flopping slippers. This was where most of the soldiers were staying, and those lurking in the hall stared at him in  shocked amusement.

            _'No, I'm not crazy- just scared as hell! Irea, you better not have told anyone about. . .'_

            He stopped at the door, and not a moment too soon.

            "It was so strange. I just went up there to make sure he was all right, and, who was in there sitting on the bed but. . ."

            "Irea! Thank goodness!" Quatre interjected, a little out of breath. Irea and her "nurse" Larathea were chatting while Irea happily pulled stitches from a soldiers arm.

            He was whimpering like a baby.

            "Quatre! We were just talking about you! How funny! I. . .darling, where are your clothes?" Looking upwards, she snapped her fingers. "Oh, yes, of course! Your new clothes! Mr. Bourgeon, the tailor, brought them just this morning. You were so all over the place that I picked some out for you. I hope that was all right. . ."

            "That's fine." He interrupted. "Thank you. Do you think I could talk to you for a minute?"

            "Of course. I'm almost done." She yanked a couple more stitches from the blubbering soldier. She cleaned her patient and re-bound his arm. Then, patting him on the back, she ushered him out of the clinic. "Okay. So, what's up?"

            He glared at Lara, who looked back at him innocently.

            "Yes, Quatre- what **is** up?" She giggled. Pointing the door, he stamped his foot.

            "Out!"

            "Quatre!" Irea giggled. "Be nice!"

            "It's fine- he's only doing it 'cause Dad always did it." Lara sneered, pinching her little brother's nose.

            "That's because you talked his ear off." Quatre sniffed. 

            "Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I'll be back later to help you with that **pilot**. Be good Quatre!" She waved and let herself out of the room. Quatre locked the door.

            "Quatre, you're being paranoid! What's going on?"

            " 'pilot'. . ." He whispered to himself. Turning on Irea, he stared at her with contempt. "You told!" He accused. 

            "What? What are you talking about?" She was taken aback. "Told what to whom, Quatre?"

            "Oh, you know what I'm talking about." He countered.

            "No, Quatre, I really don't." She exclaimed as she cleaned her desk. Exasperated, Quatre flung himself in front of her.

            "Nanashi! You told Lara that Nanashi slept in my room last night!"

            Irea stopped mid-movement. She blinked twice.

            "Nanashi slept in your room last night?"

            "Yes! You came in and he was there. . ."

            "He told me Treize sent him to fetch you. Actually, he used those exact words but. . ." She squealed. "Oh my god-he slept in your room?!?!?! He's your crush! Hah!" She clenched her hands into triumphant fists. "I found out! And I didn't even have to torture you!" Laughing, she hugged her little brother. "This is so wonderful! Oh Quatre, you have good taste! He's so handsome and polite, and that rubber suit. . ."

            "Irea!" Quatre blushed_. 'I can't believe she didn't know! He saved the day and I just totally blew it!'_

            "You two would be so cute together, I. . ." Her eyes suddenly turned serious. Grabbing his shoulders, she looked him firmly in the eye.

            "You used protection right?"

            Quatre was stunned.

            "Even men have to do that- here, I'm going to give you some. . ." She began to fish around in her cabinet. It took a second, but she finally found what she sought. "Aha, condoms! Phew. Here you go, sweetheart. You have to be careful. . .You do know how to put it on, right? Have you talked about his previous sexual partners?"

            Quatre couldn't believe what he was hearing! Irea continued.

            "That's one of those things you should really discuss. I don't want to give into stereotypes, but soldiers often carry venereal diseases but don't know it. Why, I've actually treated three Ozzies for herpes since they. . ."

           "Irea, we didn't have sex!" Quatre hissed. It was Irea's turn to look surprised. Exasperated, Quatre explained. "Irea, he's my friend! We were talking last night and he fell asleep on my bed. Since I'd heard that he wasn't feeling well, I thought it would be best to let him sleep through the night. Nothing happened! I haven't even kissed him, and I probably won't! He  isn't interested in me in that way!" Sitting down, he propped his chin up on his hand. "Though I wish he was." He muttered glumly.

            "Oh sweetheart." Irea chuckled. She put her arms around Quatre. "That is so sweet! You really do like him, don't you?" He nodded.

            ". . .yeah. I really do. Really."

            "I'm sorry that I jumped to an insulting conclusion. I'm glad you two didn't have intercourse- you're so young, and he can't be any older. You'll have plenty of time when you're older." She sighed. "He is a dish, though- you best beware. Lara's got a thing for him."

            "Well, tell her he's taken, so we're both out of luck."

            "He's. . .taken? Who's he with?"  Quatre paused- he just didn't want to say it out loud.

            "Treize."

            "Treize!?" Irea gasped. "What? No! I mean, isn't that illegal or something? And against every policy that could ever be written concerning commander-officer relations or. . .my god."

            "I know. Let's not talk about it, okay?" Quatre forced a smile. "It's not his fault- he's an orphan and Treize's ward. He has nowhere to go."

            "That bastard! Taking advantage of a helpless kid like. . ."

            "Irea, Nanashi isn't helpless. In fact, I think he has more control over it all than Treize, and that's why I couldn't ever be mad at Treize. You didn't see them kiss. I did. Treize was very gentle. He's a good person."

            "Still. . ."

            "Please don't repeat any of this." Quatre entreated. "It's none of our business, and I feel like a traitor for even saying it. Don't tell any of the girls about Nanashi."

            "I won't, Quatre. I promise." Irea kissed him on the forehead. "But I'm going to look out for that boy- especially if you're 'in like' with him."

            "'Rea." Quatre groaned.

            "I won't take it back- you two would be adorable together." She thought about it for a second. "That is. . if he ever smiles. The boy's a brick wall- Five days, and I haven't even seen a shadow of a smile."

            "Really? I've seen dozens of them, and they're wonderful!" Quatre sighed. Irea quirked an eyebrow.

            "Hmm. . .maybe that's why- he's wasting them all on you."

            "Maybe no one else knows how to make him smile." 

            "That may be true. In which case, don't give up hope."

            "Thanks Irea.. And speaking of him, I better get back up there before he gets out of the shower. I don't want it to seem like I abandoned him."

            "Alright. Well, when he gets out, bring him down here. Oh yeah, I wanted to ask you- Did you authorize the use of our storage unit as a mobile suit lab?"

            "Uh. . .no."

            "That's what I thought. It's just that I went out there for supplies and met three very creepy engineers who'd very comfortably moved into our storage area."

            "I'll check it out later, thanks Irea."

            "Go get your boy. Oh, and take these." She thrust several suit bags into his arms. They were heavy.

            After one final grin at his favourite sister, Quatre hurried back upstairs. He entered his room just as Nanashi stepped out of the bathroom.

            He dropped his clothes and stared.

            No Nanashi wasn't naked and no he wasn't wearing a towel- he was still wearing his rubber suit. However, it was unzipped to his clavicle, just like in Quatre's dream.  Nanashi's hair was wet and pushed back on his head to finally manifest both his eyes. Quatre had to physically shake himself out of his daze.

            "Quatre? Are you okay?  What're all those bags for?"

            "Bags? I. . oh! When you were in the shower, Irea called me down to get my new suits."

            "More clothes? What about all that stuff under the bed?"

            "You looked?!" Quatre's mouth fell open. "Oh, I'm so embarrassed!"

            "Quatre!" Nanashi grinned, which only made Quatre more embarrassed because he wanted Nanashi to grin more. "I happened to notice when I was making your bed. It's nothing to be embarrassed about."

            "Oh yes it is! I'm such a slob!" He huffed.

            "Well. . .a bit. You should probably pick up those suits- they'll get wrinkled like that."

            Quatre placed the suits on the bed.

            "Which one are you going to wear?" Nanashi asked, fingering one of the bags. Quatre shrugged.

            "I don't know- I haven't seen any of them yet."

            "You have to meet with Treize and President Barton, don't you?" 

            "Yes, I suppose I do."

           "Then let me pick out your suit." The request was a little mystifying, but Quatre had no complaints. Sitting on the bed, he allowed Nanashi to view his new clothes even before he did. The pilot pulled out the first and frowned.

            "This one is for the funeral. It's in the maroon bag."

            "o. .. okay." 

            Nanashi rummaged (gently) through a second bag, but shook his head.

            "What was with that one?"

            "It's white."

            And that was the entire answer.

            Nanashi continued his search and Quatre mentally wandered off.

            _'Father's funeral is tonight. I. . .god fucking dammit! No. . .be strong. . .you have to be strong. . .'_

            "You'll have to be strong."

            Nanashi's words broke Quatre from his mental thrashing. The pilot stood beside him, almost 'wielding' a beautiful, red-silk suit. The colour was powerful- it practically slapped the heir across his face.

            "Dekim Barton is a dominating bastard. This colour of this suit will help give you an aura of power and confidence."

            "It's beautiful." Quatre whispered. He gingerly took it from Nanashi's hands and held it up against his torso. "But will it overpower me too?" The pilot shook his head.

            "Not with those eyes. They're basically complimentary colours, teal and red. It'll look very handsome on you."

            Quatre blushed at the selling comment.

            "I'll wait for you in the hall.

            Quatre watched him leave. Then, the excited space prince dressed himself in his finery.

            _'Dear sweet Allah, I'm gorgeous!'_

            Quatre twirled in front of his mirror. Really, he was gorgeous. The suit was perfectly crafted for his lithe body, but gave the appearance of wider shoulders and longer legs. The high collar of the dress shirt was very adult- it reminded him of his father. There was an optional cravat, which he decided not to wear  for the sake of simplicity. He brushed his hair and applied just a touch of expensive cologne to his pulse points. 

            Then he stared at himself some more.

            _'It's just the suit- it makes me look handsome. When I take it off I'll be a silly little nothing again. But. . .Nanashi's so right! I feel so powerful! I feel.. I feel like I can take over the world!'_ He narrowed his eyes deviously_. 'I feel like I could seduce Nanashi. . .'_ He giggled maniacally, then stopped himself because he felt foolish. Puffing out his chest a bit, he casually met Nanashi at the door.

            "I was right." Was all he got from the pilot. And, of course, it made him swoon.

            "Thank you."

            "Irea said she wanted to talk to you."

            "oh, I already talked to her. But, I'll walk you down to the clinic."

            They chatted (Quatre chatted) on their way down the stairs and through the hall. There were soldiers bustling about, getting ready for their next invasion. Quatre kept the conversation light, simply to keep Nanashi's mind off it all.

            However, that was not to be.

            "Hey, No-name! What're ya doin'?"

            Someone grabbed Nanashi from behind, which caught Quatre by surprise. Nanashi was unfazed.

_            'No-name?'_

            A soldier of Nanashi's own rank held onto the pilot's arm. He was surrounded by several cronies, each more leering than the last. Had Quatre not been in his power suit, he would've felt very intimidated.

            Alright, he was **still** a little intimidated.

            "It's none of your concern." Nanashi pulled his arm from the man's grip.

            "Well you better get Epyon geared up 'cause we're. . .oh wait. . ." There were sniggers in the background. "That's right- you're not going. His excellency thought you needed a "vacation", poor overworked No-name. Well sure! Now you and the general can spend some **quality** time together. . ."Nanashi's eyes narrowed dangerously. But the man continued. "Well, it's probably better that Colonel Zechs is leading the attack. He's much more experienced. And we wouldn't want a repeat of what happened in L1, eh, Lieutenant No-name?"

            "Those psychopaths are tinkering with your suit right now." Another soldier laughed. "I bet it'll come out wearing a frilly pink tutu and'll use an umbrella for a weapon!"

            "Instructor Noin said they took out that computer system that made you go mental. . ."

            "We're simply ironing out the wrinkles in the Zero system." Nanashi pronounced. "That is why I am not leading this attack."

            "Sure sure!" The first soldier chuckled. "It has nothing to do with cocktails with his excellency." They all sniggered. Nanashi remained outwardly unfazed, but Quatre could feel his anxiety and pain. And rage. There was a lot of rage in there- Quatre really wasn't sure how he didn't burst.

            "Hey- what going on over here?" A new voice- a nasal tenor- sliced through the laughter. The remaining soldiers parted for the new arrivals.

            "Nothing, nothing- Alex, Mueller. We're just having a bit of fun with No-name, that's all."

            "You mean at his expense, right?" The tall blond pushed his glasses up his nose. "And we call him Nanashi for a reason, Lieutenant Drei. No, I was actually wondering why the hell you haven't moved out yet- your regime is departing right now."

            "Alex is right, I'm afraid. So, I suggest you all get the hell to surface before Instructor Noin has your asses." The dark-haired man smirked. The five gentlemen who'd been terrorizing Nanashi earlier fled the scene, horrified.

            "Morons." Mueller sneered. Alex chuckled.

            "Thank you." Nanashi murmured, looking at the ground.

            "No, thank you." Alex returned. "They clearly don't give respect where it is due. Had they seen your stratagem, they surely would've responded differently. I think you deserve a vacation."

            "I'm sure he doesn't want it." Mueller added. 

            "No. You don't, do you, Nanashi?" The blond smirked. "You're such a danger-seeker. Zechs is going to kill you for this strategy. Everyone else will praise you, though."

            "I don't need praise."

            "I know, I know." Alex waved it off. Leaning closer, his voice fell to a hush. "Thought you might like to know- All three scientists are here, and so are Artemis and Apollo."

            "They brought the. . ."

            "Yeah. The engineers are working the kinks out of zero." Mueller put in. "They haven't even touched the suits. You know what that means. . ."

            ". . .He brought them to keep me occupied." Nanashi murmured. There was a hint of tragedy in his tone.

            "Sorry, kid." Mueller shrugged. Alex looked a little more compassionate.

            "Maybe he has confidence in the system and wants to get Dorothy into her suit as soon as possible." Alex offered. "Or maybe we'll be taking a break after A0206."

            "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, I've been rendered useless." Nanashi whispered.

            "You always know how to put things in perspective." Alex murmured, looking him over. "Still in your suit, I see. You should probably change." Nanashi nodded. Alex snapped his fingers. "Why don't you change and we'll take you and your friend into town for a spot at the pub. It'll loosen you up a bit. . ."

            "I don't need to be loosened up. . ." Nanashi suddenly turned cold. Mueller rolled his eyes.

            "Right. You haven't even introduced us to your friend here." 

            Quatre shuddered as he felt the dark-haired man's eyes appraise his body. He wasn't sure what it was, but there was something 'off' about these two.

            "My name is Quatre Raberba Winner, I am Director of the L4 colony." Quatre extended his hand. The dark haired man took it, smiling wolfishly.

            "Treize's new protégé- big surprise. It's an honour. Lieutenant R. Mueller. That's Lieutenant Alex."

            "Pleasure." Alex took the Heir's hand. "Mr. Winner, you'd like to go into town, wouldn't you? Go to the pub, talk to your people. . ."

            "He's underage, and people would notice him." Nanashi interrupted. "Besides, I have an appointment with Dr. Winner and Master Quatre has to meet with his excellency. Thank you for your invitation."

            "The invitation is open ended, Nanashi." Alex murmured fondly. He subtly caressed the pilot's waist. "I'll visit you after we conquer A0206."

            "I'll be with Treize." Nanashi announced as he subtly shook off the soldier's hand. "I hope the battle goes well for you gentlemen."

            "Well- have a good time pool-side. I hope you don't choke on your cocktail." Alex sneered while maintaining a sick smile. Nodding to Quatre, he turned and marched up the stairs. 

            "Thank you for hospitality, Master Winner." Mueller's baritone voice was sincere. "Have a good day." He saluted before pursuing his comrade.

            "W. . .who were they?" Quatre shivered. Nanashi started to walk down the hall. 

            "Forget about them."

            "B. . .but. . ."

            "Quatre, come here." Nanashi ordered. Had it been anyone else, Quatre would've been miffed at the order. But since it was his Nanashi, he quickly ran to the other boy's side.

            "Don't talk to them unless I'm with you." The pilot spoke quietly. They were so close Quatre's shoulder brushed Nanashi's arm as they walked. "In fact, don't come down here alone, and don't come down here at night. Your sisters really shouldn't be down here, and you need to tell them that. Don't let Irea treat any of the soldiers without someone else on staff. I'm serious."

            "O. .. Okay." Quatre's voice was small. "But. . why? What's going to happen?"

            ". . .Nothing if you do what I say." Nanashi  turned to face the heir. Quatre tried to find the reason in the boy's face, but any answers available were overshadowed by concern. The pilot's eyes studied Quatre's features. A delicate shiver ran up the space prince's back. "When they get bored and lonely, soldiers look for something to occupy their minds. They look for something. . .precious-looking." Nanashi bit his lip, still staring at Quatre's face. "You and your family are very precious, Quatre Winner."

            Nanashi entered the clinic, leaving a blushing heir to enjoy the comment.

            "Good morning, Lieutenant! Please, have a seat here!"

            Larathea's sex-kitten voice broke Quatre' from his reverie.

            _'Oh shit.'_

            Quatre hurried into the clinic after his love.

            The sight was just as he feared.

            Larathea, the second youngest female in the house, had always been a bit of a tart. And, dressed in a novelty nurses uniform and fishnet stockings, she looked more like an expensive stripper than the sister to L4's richest man. Quatre was mortified!

            "Yes, there you go!" She ushered him to the examination table. "Now, Dr. Winner will be back in a few minutes. While she's gone, we're just going to do a check-out. . .I mean, check up."

            "Lara, you're not a nurse! You're a soap opera actress!"

            "Oh shush!" The busty red-head waved it off. "Irea needs help, so I'm helping! And keep it P.C., darling- we're all 'actors'."

            "Oh brother. . ."

            "Alright. Irea wanted me to take your blood pressure, so I'm going to need you to roll up your sleeve. . .wait, that won't work. . .you're going to have to pull down the top of that space suit."

            "Larathea!" Quatre hissed.

            "Of course." Nanashi complied. Two pairs of lovely blue-green eyes widened as the zipper slid downwards.

            "Oh baby." Lara moaned softly. Quatre would've done the same, but he was at a loss for words. Nanashi pulled the zipper to his stomach, then withdrew his arms from the sleeves.

            "Is this okay?"

            "That is just. . .roar!" Lara whispered, growling. Furious, Quatre pinched her back.

            "Ouch! Quatre!" They exchanged glares. "You know, you shouldn't be here- this is confidential stuff!"

            "Just because you played a nurse on TV. doesn't mean you're a real nurse." He countered. "I need to make sure you don't permanently injure him."

            "Silly Quatre!" She patted his head. "Do you honestly think that little 'ole me could ever hurt such a strong, muscular war hero as Mr. Nanashi?"

            "Yes! You harpy!"

            "Quatre!" 

            "Nurse. I'm ready."

            "Oh, coming!" She turned back to "her" patient. The actress wrapped the sphygmomanometer's nylon cuff around Nanashi's elbow. Then, after making sure he was comfortable, she put her stethoscope to his arm and began to pump. Quatre was astounded. Noticing this, the girl rolled her eyes.

            "Irea wouldn't leave me in here if I was completely useless, Quatre. When I was researching for my part, she offered to train me in exchange for me working for free. I didn't work very much, but she did train me. Oh!" Her eyes went wide then she stopped pumping. She listed for a moment, then glanced at the apparatus and quickly jotted down some numbers on a form. She deflated the cuff and freed the pilot. Nanashi shook his arm. 

             "All right. I just need to take some blood. .. from the other arm."

            "Oh God, Lara with a syringe!"

           "I'm fine!" She huffed.  She drew some of Nanashi's blood and immediately put it in a labelled test tube for her sister. "See no problem!" She smirked. "Now all I have to do is. . .oooh! I get to test your reflexes."

            "That means she hits you with a little hammer." Quatre explained drolly. Nanashi smiled a bit.

            "Quatre Raberba Winner, If you don't  put a stopper on those smart remarks I'll hit **you** with a hammer. . ."

            "I'm so scared. . ."

            "What is going on in here?" Irea asked, entering. 

            "Quatre is being a brat." The red-headed girl pouted. Irea gave Quatre a pointed look.

            "I am not! I. . . I. . .Irea, look what she's wearing!" Quatre protested. "She looks like a floozy! Larathea, our basement clinic isn't a place to find a boyfriend."

            Nanashi chuckled a bit. Lara turned beet red.

            "Quatre! I'm. . ."

            "I'll take over, Lara. Why don't you go have lunch?"

            "But Irea. . ."

            "Go. I need to talk to the Lieutenant anyway."

            "Oh. .. fine." Lara sulked. Grabbing her feather purse, she stomped out. Quatre snorted.

            "Quatre, you should escort your sister  to the stairs." Nanashi murmured.

            "What? Why? I'm sure she doesn't. . ."

            "What did we talk about before?" The soldier continued. Quatre suddenly realized what he was talking about.

            _'Lara shouldn't be walking around down here dressed like that. She could get in  trouble. . .'_

            Quatre ran after his furious sibling.

            "Lara!" He trotted along beside her. She rolled her eyes. "Lara. . .just listen to me."

            "Why were you being so snarky in there?" She snapped. "You were being a total brat. So what if I'm flirting with one of Irea's patients- it's none of your business."

            "Lara. . .I'm sorry." _'I hate it when she's mad at me! Why does she have to be so high strung?'_ "Lara. . .please. . ."

            "I was just helping- we're all helping around here Quatre. Oz has totally taken over our home and I don't even think you've realized it! We're all working our asses off while you have tea and crumpets with Treize!" She turned on him, her eyes blazing. "You don't seem to realize that our world has been totally ripped to shreds! I'm just helping Quatre! I just wanted a moment to have a bit of fun. All these gross men around, expecting all these things from us. . .that lieutenant was nice to me yesterday, so I wanted to be nice to him! I'm sorry if that disturbs your perfect little world!" She was practically crying. She looked so foolish- crying in her stripper-worthy nurse uniform. Quatre felt like a heel, but he really wasn't sure if she was acting or really upset.

            He reached out to her with his heart- tried to feel her feelings. And then he had his answer.

            "I'm sorry, Lara. I wasn't thinking in there. I was. . .being jealous." He murmured softly. She sniffled.

            "What are you talking about?"

            "I. . ." _'God, I am not telling Lara about this! She's the world's biggest blabbermouth!'_ "I. . .I got jealous when I saw you flirting with Nanashi. You look so sexy and. . ."

            "Oh my god." She intoned. "You. . .really have developed a pathological fixation with me. . .Quatre, I'm your sister!"

            "Oh shut up!" Quatre put his hand on her mouth. She could be so annoying! "No, dummy- Nanashi! I have developed a pathological fixation with him! So shut up!"

            He pulled his hand off her mouth, wiping it on the skirt of her uniform. She didn't say a word, but her face burst into a wicked grin. "Lara, don't tell! I'll kill you if you tell. . ."

            "Nanashi? Your crush is. . .ha hah!" She cackled! "Oh my god, that is too cute!"

            "Stop it!"

            "Baby-Quatre's got a boyfriend. . ." She exclaimed in a sing-song voice, skipping down the hall. He pursued her frantically. "Baby Quatre's got it go-ing-on!" 

            "Lara! Keep your voice down!"

            "Baby-Quatre likes his men in rubber."

            "Shut up!" He wailed.

            "Baby-Quatre's gonna get some ass tonight!" She wiggled her barely-covered bum.

            "Larathea Quatrina Winner!" Quatre was appalled!

            "Or he's gonna get something else. . ." The red-head laughed maniacally and headed up the stairs. "Oh Quatre. . ." She sighed, disappearing around the corner. "You are just too cute."

            Sulking, Quatre returned to the clinic only to find that the door was mostly closed. Shrugging, he went to open it, but was halted by the topic of discussion.

            "I'm sorry, but some of these results are virtually impossible, and, frankly, they seem to contradict each other." Irea's spoke. "Nanashi, I shouldn't be saying this, but you are a very sick young man."

_            'No!'_

            "You have acute hypertension, anaemia, vitamin deficiency, low-ethrocyte count, not to mention a slew of bruises and cuts all over your body. You're in rough shape, my friend. So, lets talk about this. . ."

            "You're the doctor- tell me what I need to do."

            "I think it's more like something you need to stop doing."

            Through the slit between the door and frame, Quatre watched Irea place her hand on the pilot's shoulder.

            "Nanashi, have you been taking drugs?"

            _'What? No!'_

            "No. Of course not. I sometimes take aspirin for the. . .my headaches. But other than that, I've never. . ."

            "I don't mean social drugs- pot, crack, ecstasy- or the like. This is more like. . .have you taken any performance enhancers? Steroids, or any experimental. . ."

            "I don't take drugs."

            "Alright." She  bit her lip. "Have you ever heard of E9C4-TTEP, or "Ascension-P"?" He shook his head no. Irea continued. "It's a new military drug L-1 has just discovered. It was invented by a man known only as Dr. J."

            "Dr. J. . ." Nanashi whispered.

            "The discovered traces of it in a lab on L-1 and some notes detailing failed experiments. The inventor called this the "perfect soldier" drug . It's a type of performance enhancer, though it has many more long-term effects. Research says that it heightens awareness, reflexes, increases physical strength, increases speed, heightens instincts, pushes the limits of the analytic part of your mind and so forth. . .it basically makes you into a super hero. However, the repercussions are just as extreme. Hypertension, aggression, hormone imbalance, vitamin deficiency- it has been shown to cause strokes, even in young men, and a total loss of control."

            "If you're willing to die for what your ideals, this drug sounds like a miracle."

            "I can't believe I just heard that." Irea admonished. "Your body is falling apart! If you keep going like this, you are not going to last much longer!" She tried to calm herself. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about this?"

            "I don't take drugs, Dr. Winner. I've never heard of this "perfect soldier" drug. I'm fine."

            "No, you're not-you're dying."

            "I'll probably be killed before that really matters. Could you sign this Dr. Winner?" He handed her a slip of paper from the pouch at his belt. After perusing it, she laughed.

            "Oh dear." She ripped it up and threw it in the trash. "I'm sorry, but I can't reinstate your pilot status- not with a clear conscience. I need you here, right now, so I can conduct some more tests. Plus, you'd be a danger to your comrades. Take some time off. . ."

            "I will not." Nanashi seethed, standing. Irea rose as well. "I will not be reduced to a useless bystander."

            "People who choose pacifism are not useless. Wars are useless."

            "I know, that's why I must fight!"

            The ex-pilot stared at the ground. Quatre felt a surge of emotion- it overwhelmed him.

            Fear.Pain.Sorrow.Self-loathing. Doubt.Guilt. Abandonment.

            It was horrible.

            "I want you to visit me every second day while you're here.. And I want you to start taking these." She handed him a cloudy canister. "They're just multivitamins. I'm going to retest some of these things. But I want you to lay off the coffee and actually eat something- I've seen you at the dinner table."

            "All right."

            "Don't do anything strenuous or dare devilish."

            "All right."

            "And for god sakes boy, smile!"

            He just looked blankly at her.

            "Oh, shit- go find Quatre. He's probably waiting at the door like a hungry puppy. It's nice that he finally has a friend."

            "It's nice to have a friend." Nanashi murmured.

            "You can count me as a friend. . .as long as you do what I say."

            Though he was hiding behind his hair, from the side Quatre could see that he was smiling. _'Oh, don't hide it! Don't hide your beautiful smile! Show her how wonderful you can be!'_ Quatre screamed in his mind.

            "Thank you, Irea."

            Quatre scrambled to the other side of the hall, where he leaned against the wall nonchalantly. Nanashi emerged.

            ". . .What time were you supposed to meet with Treize this morning?"

            _'Treize and President Barton.__ Oh crap!'_

            "Damn. I don't know. Probably now." Quatre laughed nervously. "I should probably re-introduce myself to the President of L-3."

            "They're in the parlour."

            "I guess I should go." _'Quatre you moron!__ How could you forget about that! You were too busy ogling Nanashi to pay attention to anything! Arggg!'_

            "Why don't I meet you in the garden when you're finished. Supposedly I need to rest, so I'll read underneath that Willow."

            "I'll find you there and I'll bring something to eat." Quatre smiled. A picnic underneath his favourite tree with his favourite person!

            "All right. Underneath the Willow."

            Since Nanashi would not allow Quatre to walk the hall by himself, he escorted the heir to the main floor at which point the pilot took his leave. Of course, Quatre watched him leave, mouth open, eyes bugging out of his face.

            Just as he was rounding the corner, Nanashi looked back.

            Quatre was caught!

            "I. . .I. . ."

            "At the willow."

            Nanashi disappeared from sight.

            Cursing himself, Quatre fled the scene.

*~*

            "Dammit, Treize- I can't over-rule the council in this matter. You know I'm trying the best I can."

            "Evidently, you're best is not good enough."

            Quatre walked into the conservatory to find Treize and the L3 President at odds. He coughed politely at the entrance. A relieved Treize rose with an extended hand.

            "Quatre- good morning. I was wondering if you would grace our meeting."

            "I'm sorry I'm late. Please forgive me." Quatre smiled at the duke-his friend. Glancing up, he offered his hand to President Barton. "President Barton, it is nice to see you again. Please- you are welcome in my home."

            "So mannered. . .so unlike Raberba." The brawny elder chuckled. "You've grown into quite the young man, Quatre. Your father must've been very proud."

            Tears were imminent, but Quatre pushed them back.

            "Raberba's funeral is this evening- will you be attending?" Treize asked.

            "I would like to- but my schedule doesn't permit it. I have to get back right away. I will be thinking and praying for your family, Quatre."

            "Thank you, President Barton."

            "You are the Colony Director- you can call me Dekim." He turned to Treize. "I will offer these papers to the committee and I'll contact you as soon as they've come to a decision."

            "If that's all that can be done, then thank you. I'll show you out."

            "Are you leaving already, Dekim?" Quatre asked. "Surely you'll stay for some lunch!"

            "Thank you, Quatre- but as I said, I really have to go. Your home is wonderful. I will be back next week for our annual convention.  Give your beautiful sisters my regards. You're doing a wonderful job, young man ." The president murmured fondly. "You have the makings of a great leader."

            They shook hands for the second time in three minutes.

            "Shall we see you to the door?"

            "No, Treize- that will be fine."

            The mammoth man left quickly.

            _'How strange.__ He used to always stay for something to eat. . .'_

            "I hope I didn't miss anything."

            "No, don't worry." Treize sat on the divan. "This was a personal matter between Dekim and I that needed some resolution."

            "Pardon my intrusion, but it didn't sound like anything was resolved."

            "You're right, Quatre." Treize sighed. "And I'm afraid that the longer it remains up in the air, the more innocent people will suffer."  Quatre sat beside the duke. They met eyes and Treize patted Quatre's hand. "Don't worry Quatre-this is not a war. It's familial. I'm trying to gain custody of my daughter, but the laws on L3 are very specific and do not look kindly on fathers who abandon their children. It doesn't matter that I only discovered her existence her three years ago- laws are-unfortunately-laws."

            "But you're her father- it shouldn't matter." Quatre protested. "You'd make a wonderful father."

            "Children Aid Units don't look kindly on Soldiers, Quatre. My personality comes second to the stereotypes."

            "But you're a duke! I mean- Earth royalty! Can't you do something? Bend the rules a bit?  This is your daughter!"

            "She's the L-3 heir, as well, Quatre. And Dekim and I. . .don't always see eye to eye. I have no power in this matter.

            "Blast them" 

            "Thank you for your support. I may need to call upon that in the future, Quatre."

            "Where is your daughter, Treize? Does she live with her mother?"

            "Her mother is deceased- she lives with Dekim."

            "Oh." Quatre could see how it would be a very delicate issue. It also explained Dekim's hasty retreat and the overall tension in the air.

            "But, she is here now- waiting with my cousin Dorothy. I would very much like for you to meet her, Quatre. And Dorothy has been looking forward to meeting you as well."

            "I would love to!" Quatre exclaimed brightly. "But can it be a little later? I'm having a picnic with. . ." Quatre stopped himself in horror_. 'Stupid! You're going to tell Treize you're 'wooing' his lover? That's smart!'_ "A friend."

            "Ah." Treize smiled knowingly. He rose. "Well then- I'll have you meet Marimeia after lunch. We'll be in the music room."

            " Then I'll be there too." 

~*~

            Picnic basket in hand, Quatre scurried out to the garden.  He'd stolen the best things from the kitchen! Exotic fruit salads, cold roasted meats, soft cheese platters, a loaf of Italian bread, broccoli and strawberry salad and cake! Oh, he brought two huge slices of the world's most wonderful chocolate cake- no one could resist the Winner double-chocolate fudge cake! Not with its three layers and oh-so-rich icing.

            Quatre was practically drooling as he burst through the willow veil. Grinning, he plopped down beside a lounging Nanashi and began to spread the table cloth on the grass.

            "A picnic basket. . ." The soldier murmured with a smile. "I've eaten outside most of my life, but never had. . .a picnic."

            "Picnics are wonderful! We always had them when I was little. My father and I used to sit under this tree together and he would make me steal sandwiches and things from the cook that he wasn't supposed to eat because of his cholesterol." Quatre laughed. 

            "Sounds like fun." Nanashi dog-eared the book and sat up. Quatre served out the food "You stole enough for the whole army."

            "Oh no! Irea says you need to eat more, so I'm going to make you eat your share. And you'll have to have room for cake too, because I'll be sick If I eat both of them-which I will if you don't eat yours."

            The boys ate in comfortable silence. Quatre realized that Irea was right- he didn't eat a lot. Nanashi should've been starving since they'd missed breakfast. But he picked at his foot- eating a bit of everything. 

            "Don't look so concerned- I'm not used to this. We don't get fed so well in the army. This is a lot of food."

            "I know. I just. . .want to make sure you're okay."

            "I am. . .I'm just tired."

            Quatre inched closer until their feet were touching. In a moment of startling vulnerability, Nanashi leaned his head on Quatre's shoulder. It felt so natural. Quatre rubbed his cheek against his love's head.

            ". . .It feels like I've known you forever." Quatre whispered.

            "You may be the only friend I'll ever be able to have. Thank you."

            They both ate from Quatre's plate.

            A beautiful stillness surrounded them. Without thinking, Quatre wrapped his arm around Nanashi's shoulders. The pilot's breath hitched slightly. The electricity was still there, as it had been the night before. 

            _'This.__ . .is what I want.'_ Quatre felt like he could cry. _'This is what I've been waiting for. Waiting for him. . .for my entire life, I've been waiting for him. He is going to turn my entire world completely up-side down. I will do everything in my power to make sure he is healthy; to make sure that he is safe. . .to make sure that he is happy. My life's quest is to make him smile. I love him.' _Quatre closed his eyes and choked down his emotional response to his realization. Then, ever so gently, he reached out to touch Nanashi's emotions.

            Contentment. Comfort. Solace. Warmth. Acceptance.

            These were the images and emotions Quatre received. So different from before. Nanashi's feelings were so intense. Nanashi's feelings were beautiful-unadulterated, secret and positive.

            "Quatre. . ."Nanashi's voice was soft like a wooden flute. He stared up into Quatre's face with wondering eyes. "I . . .I want to. . ."

            Suddenly, Quatre felt a sharp sting in his neck. He heard Nanashi cry out beside him and foreign laughter. A beefy arm snaked around Quatre's waist and lifted him into the air. Something was thrown over his head- a canvas bag- and cold metal snapped against his wrists. He tried desperately to cry out, but his words fell flat as he fell unconscious.

A.N. I'm sorry to say that this story will be on hiatus for the next couple months. I have too many WIPs and I think I need to focus on them one at a time. Thanks for all the wonderful comments and support. Don't worry- I'm not abandoning it. This bunny is still alive and kicking, it's just being put in a pen for awhile. If you'd like to see some pictures for this story (drawn by the talented C.J. Langley and coloured by myself) then please visit my site (found on my author's page.) ^_^ Thanks again for reading.


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